Royal On The Run (unedited)

Chapter Fourteen

Deacon

The smoke was filling the room beyond what the eye could possibly see through. It was starting to clog up my lungs. I knew it was clogging up my sister's lungs as well. She was coughing against my chest as the smoke grew thicker.

The sounds of the explosions just outside the room were starting to go off more consistently. And now, people were screaming on top of the blasts. Men and women alike and none of them wanted the royal siblings to live, they wanted us dead. No, they were more than gleeful to announce that they'd succeed in killing two Queen's in one weeks' time.

Naomi let out a harsh cough. She'd wanted to talk but the smoke was getting too thick and she hadn't been able to form anything more than a sob or a cough.

I wasn't faring much better. I huffed out a cough every minute, usually right after she let one out. It was a cough for a cough, sob for a sob. At this rate I knew that we wouldn't last much longer. I didn't know which one would last longer, us or the door. Right now, I was putting my money on the door. It was intact enough to keep the enemy from surging into the room but it was growing less stable as each impact hit it. It was weak enough that smoke was coursing through into our lungs, weak enough that it would only take a few more blasts to send it down, right on top of us, crushing us both instantly.

The only relief in that thought was that we'd be reunite with our parents. The royal family wouldn't be separated for long. Soon, we'd be together just as we were a few days ago at dinner. If I'd known that would be the last dinner we'd have together, I would've tried to ensure it lasted longer and there'd been more laughs. That was my last regret as I remembered my mother's laugh.

"Brenden!" mother laughed, holding a hand to her mouth to uphold some sense of mannerism during this meal. "You're supposed to be a role model for the children. If this is how you're acting, how do you think Deacon will fare when he's your age?"

Our father slurped the last noodle of spaghetti from his fork. Letting it pop loudly with a grin on his face. He may of been the King of America, may be a grown man but that didn't stop him from reliving his childhood when spaghetti was served for dinner. He cleared his throat and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin before answering his wife and Queen. The only sense of proper mannerism he gave that night.

"My dear, he will become a strong and fit man just like his father. He'll be more of a charmer for the ladies or gents if he prefers due to his charming accent. With his accent, he can act however he wishes too, the ladies or gents will not care, for he is a royal with an accent. Who would ever want more?"

I burst out laughing.

"Why is it always the accent that people come up with when they bring Deacon up?" Naomi spoke up through her own slurp of spaghetti. "I mean there's more to Deacon than that, isn't there?"

I shrugged when my mother and sister laid their eyes on me. "Not going to lie, it helps. Maybe you should learn an accent, Naomi, it'll come in handy when you become Queen. Make people really love you, and maybe it'll help them forget how much of a rebel you were in your younger years."

"Younger years?" she asked with what she thought was anger but the twitch of her lips told me that she thought it was just as funny as I did. She turned to her father. "He just called me old!"

Her father laughed. "He said in the future, Naomi, he didn't say now. You can relax. Also, get that rebellious mind of yours away from locking your brother in the dungeons." He gave her a wink.