Roots and Oxygen

Chapter 1 - Rotting Roots

"I need a new Valet," Sage said to his younger brother as they stormed the grand hallways of Pothos Palace. His dark curls bounced atop his head with each step.

"Remind me again, what is a valet?" Oxley asked, jeering up at his brother with dark eyes and wiry grin. "I just want to be reminded of how ridiculous the job role is."

"Mother insists." Sage thought about elbowing him, then noticed his shirt was buttoned up wrong and decided that was punishment enough. "It's not like you don't still have one when you visit other places."

"Isn't it time you started dressing yourself?" Oxley patted Sage's shoulder roughly before they turned the corner, passing one of the largest paintings in the palace of an ancient fictional battle between Royalty and Vikings. The picture frame was crafted with hundreds of golden ivy leaves.

"I'm too used to one now," Sage mumbled, cocking a brow at his brother's arrogant smirk.

"I can hear mother now, the future king will not draw up his own shirts, run his own baths, nor pick the cotton off his own shoulders." Oxley scoffed. "There's bigger things to worry about."

Sage shook his head but didn't hide his smile. "The palace might not crumble, but the news reporters will."

"Why was your valet sacked anyway?"

"He stole my cufflinks and sold them on eBay."

Oxley laughed until he had to wipe his eyes. His laugh was so contagious, even Sage shared a deep chuckled. "How much did he sell them for?"

"Almost a hundred grand."

"And how much were they worth?"

"Almost fifty pounds."

Oxley laughed again, this time, he had to lean against the wall until he composed himself, making them even later for breakfast. Their mother was already seated, staring blankly at the door. Her eyes hardened when they entered, even more so when they bowed and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

Their mother was dressed to perfection, just like every day. She wore a red silk dress that trailed the floor, red jewellery to match, and red lipstick to tie it all together. Her dark hair smoothed around her dark skin and pulled together in tight coils at the back. Her hazel eyes were judging for the second day in a row.

She half smiled at Sage when he sat down, never able to show her true emotions with servants close by. Sage remembered what she was like before becoming Queen. His mother had many liberating qualities that were now hidden behind the crown that levelled upon her head. His mother was a beautiful blooming English Rose in a vase too small for her growing roots.

She waited until the servants left them to voice her annoyance. "Sage, I love you with all my heart, but I did not spend years drilling in the importance of punctuality for nothing."

"He's late for breakfast, not his coronation," Oxley sighed, cracking open his egg.

"You were late too. Bad habits are too easily formed," his mother warned, eyeing Oxley's crumpled shirt. "Eat your breakfast. Sage, we'll find you a new valet soon."

Sage stared bleakly at his fruit. "Preferably a younger one this time, and someone who won't steal from me the moment I turn my back."

"I wouldn't trust anyone in this palace as far as I could throw them." Oxley was Sage's younger brother, only by a year, but he had moved swiftly into the position of his best friend as they grew older, and Oxley was very protective of his friends. "Don't just replace one because Sage is late for breakfast. Take your time to find someone suitable."