A tall nerdy man walks in. Black suit and tie with a white undershirt and shoes shined to reflect like a mirror. Locking on to Stephen, sharp black rimmed glasses sit atop his nose, shielding onlookers from eyes reminiscent of a portal to an abyss. His steps steady as usual with a black crown sitting conspicuously on his head.
He reaches out to pat Stephen on the shoulder and sit down next to him.
Immediately, Stephens worries and heartaches recede like a tide. Calm washes over him and he finally feels like he can breathe again. Reaching out he pulls his father into a hug.
"Where were you?" A strained voice whispers into the kings ears. While mentally calm the body still hadn't let go of the tension that Stephen was feeling, the hug unusually tight.
"I was there."
It was like time stopped. Stephen wonders if he heard incorrectly.
"You what?"
"I was there"
The previous calm now an illusion, no sooner had the words been uttered did Stephen yank himself back, standing far away poised for a fight like a puffed up cat.
"What do you mean you were there? Did you see what was happening? You could have stopped it!"
"Stephen." There was an air of nonchalance around the king. His body now relaxing into the chair, resting his head on his fist with his arm on the back he gazes at his eldest with a hint of disappointment. "Why should I have stopped it?"
This was incomprehensible, his son was getting beaten to death by his wife, the mother of said son and he's asking why he should have stopped it. Is this some stupid lesson he's trying to teach?
"Oh I don't know? Maybe because he's a fucking child who cannot defend himself against one of the strongest people in the country!"
"Language. Don't let your emotions allow you to forget decorum."
Unbelievable.
"Decorum? Is that what your fucking worried about right now? If my brother was anybody else he would be dead!"
"He's not dead, I wasn't going to let him die."
Before Stephen could respond the doctor finally came into the waiting room. He was shocked to walk into the scene between the king and crown prince but decided to wisely mind his business.
"The surgery went well. Everything has been… placed back into the correct areas, and with his highnesses healing abilities he should be good as new in 2 to 3 days."
The argument with his father shelved, Stephen asks to be taken to Nual and is quickly by his bedside. Looking down at his baby brother lying in a hospital bed wrapped in bandages, his heart breaks. The little brother who would follow him everywhere no matter how much he pushed him away. The little brother who cried when mother didn't give him enough attention. Who came to him excited because father was proud of his good grades. Who got mad that the servants wouldn't play with him so he didn't eat for a week in protest -because he read about hunger strikes in a book. The little brother who talks too much for his own good but somehow always brightens up the room anyways.
The little brother he swore to protect… is healing from broken bones and ripped organs.
Gazing down, rage starts to take over Stephen's misty eyes and when he hears footsteps behind him he goes to swing.
A clatter is heard as a conspicuous crown rolls to the floor and dark eyes glance up in never before seen shock. Stephen might not have super strength but unbreakable bones make for pretty hard punch.
"You were there huh?" He goes to swing again but is unfortunately dodged.
With a swift move back the King quickly collects himself to his usual composure. Wiping the blood off of his lips he raises his hand and inspects the red liquid. Maintaining an unreadable facade the dark eyes pan over to look at the crown prince. An aura of absolute dread and terror permeates the room. Stephen strangely doesn't feel scared but he does feel cold…the longer he stands there the colder he feels. His toes and fingers are growing numb and he begins to uncontrollably shiver.
"Pick it up."
A command. Spoken softly as if talking about the weather, but somehow exerting absolute authority. There is no other option. Pick it up. He should've never knocked it down. He overstepped. He's not even worthy to give it back. Worthless really.
How lucky he is to get a chance to touch it.
Walking over and bending down Stephen's hand won't stop shaking long enough to grab the crown, every time he tries he drops it making it roll farther and farther away. He can't feel his arms anymore. Why did he even try? What was the point? A ludicrous action that resulted in nothing. The longer this went on the worse it got. Cold was no longer a word that was applicable, frozen didn't even feel right.
Death.
Yea that was the word, death. He felt dead, he's just a shell now, a corpse who's only goal is to pick up this crown that keeps rolling away. Oh it's close, it's really close, eye level even.
Oh, it's because he's crawling.
At least it's within reach, maybe if he reaches with both hands and presents it carefully with the respect deserved, he can feel the release death promised to give. Why wasn't he granted that sweet release? He no longer wanted to live one more second within this trapped existence. Totally not worth it. What was it even for? Hopefully when the king takes his crown back I can go warm up, the oven should do its pretty big. I'll be warm and free.
Now content with a promise of freedom, both hands were finally able to grasp the slippery decoration. Carefully lifting it up he turns to present it to the only rightful owner, accidentally catching a glimpse of a boy on a bed behind him. 'That looks like Nual, why is he hurt? I hope he's not cold. He shouldn't be, those bandages look warm. Why is he wrapped in bandages?'
The king had already reached out and grabbed the crown about to take it out of Stephen's hands when they suddenly tightened. The grip ironclad and the prince now sweating.
All of the events of the past few hours came flooding back with a vengeance, the need to protect and the cold feeling of death battling it out inside. He knew what this was, he's seen his father use it on others but he never thought it would be used on him. A paralysing move that just so unfortunately happens to be a product of his fathers innate. He remembers a certain member was putting fake news out about the monarchy. The member was brought to court and was very adamant until the king showed up. As soon as he saw him he kneeled and confessed to everything, claiming he 'just wanted the kings attention and now that he has it he can die happy' before smashing his head against the floor in kowtow until he didn't have a head to smash.
Was that going to be him? He was already thinking about jumping into the oven, it still sounded like a good idea. He was so cold, this is miserable. Hes gotta give this crown back so he can go do what he needs to do. Nual will understand, he still has mom and dad without me. Dad might be cold but he's never hurt us and mom might be distant but she still loves us.
Lies.
What is happening right now then? Is Nual not actively injured and hospitalized? Is this situation where he is about to go kill himself in an oven not enough proof that Nual cannot be left alone? If he gives this crown back it just proves that he'll accept this, that he'll kneel under pressure. That all his talk about protection is just talk. That he's not fit to be king.
Yea fuck that.
Stephen's grip tightened more on the crown now piercing his hand, blood dripping down the the grooves of the regal metal. Eyes glare up in defiance, a shaky confidence being projected as he stands up. The cold still penetrating into his bones thrown to the back of his mind.
It's not real. None of it is. I'm not cold, and I'm not giving this back.
"No."
…
"Oh?" The king responded with a tinge of amusement. "No?"
"You don't deserve this crown, not anymore."
"And you do? You can't even take it from me." The crown somehow disappeared from Stephen's hand and reappeared on the Kings head, looking as pristine as it was when he walked in.
Stephen didn't know what game his father was trying to play but he wasn't in the mood. "I can't right now, but someday I will." Glancing over at Nual before looking back into the kings eyes
"This can't happen again".
The Kings impassive face doesn't change but his eyes have a renewed glint of amusement and expectation."What can't happen again?"
"This" Stephen gestures to the hospital bed "That… can't happen again"
The King chances a look behind him, the amusement now gone. "Yes. It won't get to this point again, this isn't.. conducive. But-" gray eyes now back on Stephen "what will you do if it does?"
"I'm getting him out of here. You won't ever see him again. I don't know what you're true intentions are, but I know you need him. Don't let this happen again." The authority in his voice surprised even the King, but surprise was it all it was.
A face no longer impassive with a smirk broaching the surface the king's amusement was back in full force.
"Ok."