Wayfinding | Aaravos x Reader |

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 24: CARDINAL SIGNS

He was the beloved son of Katolis.

He was the charmer of maidens, the marrer of men, and the constant headache of crones. Everyone knew of his mischief and complexion. And owing to that, people treasured him more. But regardless of how humble or benevolent the boy was, no one believed he had the likeness of a King. As such, before offering him the opportunity to mature, the kingdom grew cynical of the Prince and his eventual succession.

It did not take long for Harrow to realize that he was an outcast in his motherland.

In an attempt to gain his people's trust, the high-blood spent twain, long winters perfecting his image. He partook in political discourse, delved into his martial training, and – with great bit of effort – attended conferences between the King and the Crow Lord. But it would be a lie to say that his hedonistic ways did not tempt him. That's why he organized visits to the forest every other night.

But, as scenic as his scheme were, the Prince did not resolve the deeper issue that remained.

He was the byword of loneliness.

He had no companions beyond the castle. In fact, his only confidants were councilmen or the guards that patrolled the palace grounds. So, one can only imagine what the male experienced when he learned that Uzner, someone he considered a friend, had lost sense in his legs. As a matter of fact, the high-blood – himself – had troubles processing the letter he received. It was as if he had forgotten how it felt to care for another being.

Was it appropriate for him to feel close to people he had just met?

And was it fine - as a rational, future leader - to experience dismay, temper, and zest?

Or would those things make him look inane in the scrutinizing eyes of Katolis?

Just when Harrow navigated through his thoughts, he was denied the time to savor the delicacy of his emotions when the King's faint footfalls caught his ear. But the lad chose to ignore it and, instead, stared intently out the balcony, hoping the man would pass him by. Unfortunately, luck was not on his side that day, much to the boy's displeasure.

"Harrow - might I have a word?"

The high-blood sighed and turned to the regent, wearing false good cheer. "Your highness," he addressed, inclining his head.

With a gentle nod, King Milan dismissed the guards and met the high-blood by the railings. After folding his hands behind his back, he let his umber hues roam the courtyard – as though to judge its quality. It took the boy a moment to realize he was stalling. After all, the noble was never this still. Ever so often, Milan took a sharp breath to speak, but thought better of it when the words slipped his mind.

"I'm sorry."

The regent's brows shot upward as hastily as his gaze shifted to the Prince. Harrow, reluctant to acknowledge him, continued to nervously twist the parchment between his hands with his head bowed down. "What . . . what for, may I ask?" 

"Sal Dorei. I disobeyed your orders and put several people at risk," The boy averred, biting back the vile image of Uzner getting hurled against a tree. "I . . . I know now that I shouldn't have done that. So, there's need to school me anymore."

"School?" Retorted the King, facing the lad. The glint of hostility that peered at the end of his tangent seemed to dilute the sincerity that led. "Why would I school you?"

"Isn't that why you're here - why you're always here?"

"Harrow-"

"Please - say what you need and leave me alone. I'm . . . I'm worn."