The icy wind dug at the Princes' isolated fingertips, abandoned by the warmth of the fabric he was dressed in.
With an extra thermal fur cloak embedded with layers of heat insulation, he continued his hunt to find this assassin... if only he had any luck...
The prince sighed to himself, allowing the cold to exit his body with each breath and absorb the fire's flame as it continued to burn. Candle's were not nearly strong enough for this weather.
Subconsciously, he made a list of all the things he currently hated, his predicament being one of them, highlighted and underlined.
It had been days since his last bath- but mere seconds from his most recent regret for making that 'spur of the moment' decision.
He wound up sitting in a rusted tavern as a suggestion from a local villager after a day of travel, being told that anyone who visited this side of town always traipsed into it. So there he sat, slumped against the damaged wall with indentations that counted the multiple brawls over the ages. It was not a good feeling. Especially from what a prince had grown accustomed to. He wanted to blend in, and knew it meant giving up luxuries, but he didn't realise exactly how tough it would be when their traits got involved... acting as a common youth; alcohol and women.
He passed up the women, too risky, but jumped at the chance to drink. The royal horse was stationed outside, tethered to a loose oak log; also dressed to fit in, no extravagant clothing, just the usual cover for bracing winter.
He bore a hood to hide his title, the last thing he needed was to be spotted. No one even knew he was here or that he left the castle a few days ago.
He chuckled at the thought for a real scenario where he was kidnapped. Even when he told them he would be locked in his study researching and not to disturb... It was scary how much faith they had in him.
"So much for security", he muttered underneath his frosted breath, clenching his drink so hard it hurt.
Absorbing the heat was a top priority in this weather, this dammed, God-forbid weather.
Resting his growing headache on his palm, he contemplated his decision to catch a literal shadow. He is way out of his league, totally, and utterly.
He grunted in frustration at his hopeless situation, the hunger also not helping. This was not quiet, however, and he had to turn his head to avoid the watchful eyes of others who glared in his direction from being 'disturbed'.
The room was filled with constant irritating chatter, loud shouting and people ramming about nonsense. Each sound echoed of the walls, bouncing around in his already crammed head.
He shut his eyes and visualised his room, the peace and quiet tranquillity. Oh, how he longed for it.
Sighing in frustration, he took a swig of the warm drink, allowing it to trickle harshly down his throat, warming his stone-cold body where a beautiful stinging sensation remained. The room then became oddly quiet. No one uttered a word, only feint breathing throbbed at the ears. What was going on? He peered through the shelter of his hood, and then he saw it- saw her.
Looming over the door, shrouded by utter darkness. Her very presence was overwhelmingly intimidating, which to his dislike, his body shrank further in his corner of fear.
She stepped, every step felt like a heartbeat, pounding continuously, but ever so silent. It was like mist hovering across the floor. A shadow. Know he knew why that name caught on for her.
He gulped.
He had always planned to find, her but got so caught up in trying to accomplish it, that he never knew what he would say, or how he could even get close. Gosh- he was naïve.
She sauntered to the bar, her dangerous presence oozing from her body. She was living death.
As breathing became harder and harder to control, he had to close his eyes. His stupid, weak body crippling against a threat. Oh, how it agitated him.
Ears perked to hear the slightest information leaking off her tongue, he heard a name.
'Aloysia Tamala'.
Whether it was her real name or not begged the question, but it was all he had.
Only a few seconds after -and remaining in the corner- he could hear her taunting some random guy... Then he heard metal meet flesh.
He winced, blocking his ears. The prince never normally so feeble or pathetic, but she just- she could bring you to your knees in an instant.
Smashing of glass broke the silence, slashing imagery as to what was going on. He slowly opened his eyes.
Then he heard it.
His stomach churned and he became deathly pale. His insides were betraying him.
The squish of blade splitting man. The cold no longer existed, heat sprawled everywhere. His nerves were racing, and he could no longer hear anything, the deafening sound of his accelerating heart rate consumed his ears.
She stood up, and he didn't know what happened next. He didn't want to know, until she left.
White specs obscured his vision, he thought he would pass out, but he didn't. He didn't move. No one did. They had all witnessed a murder. One that according to her witnesses' stark expressions, was all too easy for her to deal with.
Clenching his stomach with his arm, he hoisted himself up using the wall as leverage.
His legs felt brittle and flimsy, but he managed to stabilise himself.
The air was thick, and musty, overpowered by the stench of people's undying fear. He was revolted, yet adrenaline began to flourish as he realised what he had just stumbled across. Who he had just stumbled across.
He couldn't let this opportunity slip, not in a million years.
Gaining his courage slightly he began to stumble for the exit, inhaling the fresh, night breeze as it kissed his cheeks. It was inviting to his oxygen deprived lungs compared to the tavern.
Retracting his eyes from the stars, his attention drew to a crowd parting rapidly with faces of vulnerability striking through. Between them, a dark hooded figure merged with the shadows.