Bright sparkling rays danced on the eyelids of the deep asleep Prince through the window.
His silent slumber kept him adrift from the treacherous world now calling his name softly.
"Liam, Liam..."
It grew louder and louder...
"Liam!", she coughed hiding her slight frustration.
"Your highness, you must wake".
Startled from rising abruptly, he jolted to sitting.
The female servant gave a face of condolences and bowed deeply.
Liam sighed a sigh of relief and waved a hand in her direction as apology accepted.
Hands dug at his eyes, wiping them clean from a downfall of tear stains.
The sun was awfully dull, doing nothing to melt the left over snow, but it was still piercing enough for his groggy eyes.
His body was sore, sleeping in his worn clothes, with nothing but a torn sheet to cover him.
His eyelids clasped together.
The only sound were the morning birds chirping at the frost bitten trees.
The wind humming gently across the sky.
The smell of fresh grass wafted into his room.
Liam held a palm to his face and observed the serene beauty through the broken window, sighing softly.
His clothes were wrinkled, his button up shirt undone at the top and his once pristine waist coat, was also untucked from his crinkly attire. He was the definition of a mess.
Groaning with the weight of the Prince, the bed remained messy and damaged as ever. Liam sat lazily at the edge of the bed, palm resting his face from his knee.
The brown fluffy locks upon his head were dishevelled and strands stood in random directions. His face, somehow remained untouched, the sharp jawline still prominent.
Yet his eyes did not gleam like they used too, as if they lost the match to alight the fire behind them.
Without it, they rested dormant.
However, the floor was cleaned, removing any sharp glass shards. In its place, was the oak wood he remembered gleaming back up at him.
Speaking about gleaming at him, the female servant still stood at the door fiddling with the hem of her dress, staring at him.
His voice was raspy, still groggy from sleep, "Why are you here?"
He could see her visibly gulp, her eyes darting back and forth between his exposed collar bones and his eyes.
Heat rose to her cheeks, trying to hide her face by invitingly wanting the floor to swallow her whole, and not feel the embarrassment.
Liam smirked, even in his current attire, he still looked good, he always did.
"I was sent to dress you for today's funeral, and inform you that you must dine with the Northern King for breakfast in 2 hours to discuss your coronation, your highness"
He raised an eyebrow at her, well aware of his effects that were causing her to squirm under his intense eye contact. "What does the king wish to discuss about? The coronation has nothing to do with him"
She shook her head violently, her eyes, still piercing the ground, "I do not know Your highness, I am merely the messenger"
Liam huffed, and stood up. More exposed collarbone shone through and it was enough for the female to cough as soon as her eyes glazed over it.
She gasped, holding a hand on her chest to gain back the breath that was stolen.
Liam laughed internally, he knew he had this effect on women, it was his trademark charm, and he was in desperate need of something that was not depressing.
But deciding that that would have to wait after the funeral to find something to distract himself from reality, he needed to mentally prepare to speak with the King.
Could he lash out as he once did? That bastard was bringing this kingdom to ruin and him with it.
How could he face the man who has stolen everything from beneath his feet? Liam didn't think he deserved the title of Prince; not when in his power he could do nothing. All he was now, was just an object for the public.
"I can dress myself, you are relieved of your duty"
"But Your Hi-"
"Did I ask for a response?", he snapped while Turing to face her from the newly placed mirror in the corner.
She immediately bowed, "Of course not, I am incredibly sorry for my disobedience, I will take my leave of you, your highness"
And with that, she scurried out of the room for fear of being scolded further.
Liam feared the worst. He did not think the king would be such a fool as to send a gossipy servant his way, to maybe pry into things and learn secrets for himself.
Liam would not entertain such shallow things.
He turned his head, away from the oak door and faced himself in the mirror, gulping at his reflection staring back at him.
This was going to take longer than expected...
———————————
The funeral would be held in the temple owned by the royals near the castle. It was not on the grounds however, which made the King slightly grunt in annoyance.
The temple was at the centre of the main town skirting the castle grounds. Built there specifically for the people to celebrate but with easy access for the royals alike.
He would have to travel by cart down the long open road connecting the two.
Out in the public eye.
Vulnerable to unwanted attention...
Of course people would be there to wish their condolences, but the kings main concern was who else besides the citizens would show up, and if she would dare be stupid enough to make a move.
The knife that rested in his palm from breakfast was stabbed into the table out of utter anger.
He did not, want to expose himself like this.
But what choice did he have?
Gritting his teeth and preparing for the challenge ahead, he knew security would be top priority.
No one gets past him...
No one.