Aspen storms out of the meeting hall, his expression dark like a thunder cloud and his scent unsettled.
He can sense his instincts unravelling out of his control by the second, and he squashes them down forcibly.
He can't believe that he let that geezer get off with just a slap on the wrist. He should have just broken his neck like he intended to, or gouged his eyes out for daring to look so smug while his filthy mouth sullied the festivity of his conferment.
How dare that pretentious rat insult my family!
The rage boiling in his heart feels like an open flame, and his lungs burn from the sting of his rampant emotions.
His family had been his everything - his purpose for living when he was still a child. They raised him out of the kindness of their hearts, having accepted the burden of his appearance on their doorstep one day.
He has no doubt that his birth mother was the one who dropped him off in front of their door when he was merely a baby wrapped in cloth.
He remembers the emperor recounting his origin on the day he came knocking on their door, dressed in fine cloths and even finer jewellery.
His mother, the late empress, had run away from her suffocating husband to seek refuge in a poor town far south of the capital, and had abandoned him merely weeks after his birth. She had travelled some distance away from the place she settled in to find a family to leave her son with.
In hindsight, he should have felt resentment towards her for throwing him away the moment she was physically capable of walking. But Aspen has never felt so much as an inkling of disappointment or sorrow.
Because in place of his mother, who suffered through sixteen years of illness before perishing alone, he had obtained a father, a sister and a brother. All of whom had showered him with the warmth and love he needed to grow into a healthy, happy youth.
Even if he were to find fault with his mother, all he could think of when the emperor opened his shitty mouth and waxed poetry about how much she had meant to him and how he had been devastated to learn of her death was that he was an obsessed, perverted bastard who didn't understand the meaning of the word 'no'.
Clearly, his mother had escaped the emperor's clutches for a good reason, and she had abandoned him in an effort to break the shackles that his blood would eventually impose on him.
He had guessed right from the beginning that the late empress had cared about him, enough to send her only child somewhere he would not be easily found by the emperor. Where he would grow up safe from prying eyes and the thorns in the palace.
All this, he had deduced at the age of seventeen, when he looked into the emperor's greedy, revolting eyes and realised that he was merely seen as a replacement for his mother. A doll look-alike with no substance other than to sit prettily and be smothered by unwanted affection.
So, of course, the only right thing to do in the face of such nonsensical drivel was to shut the door in the emperor's face and tell him to buzz off.
As young as he had been, he never thought that his refusal would end in the death of his beloved family, and that he would utilise the innate strength he was born with to wreak havoc and spill rivers of blood in revenge.
He had learnt, over the years of being under the emperor's thumb, that there was merit in bidding his time. And the time to strike back at the emperor was soon coming.
Being conferred as crown prince was only the first step of many, and he had expected some resistance from the supporters of his half-siblings, but didn't anticipate the sheer lengths they would go to undermine his worth.
A petition first, then a half-hearted attempt at creating a scandal about his virility.
And of all things, to bring up a story from so far back in the past to provoke his anger?
Marques Grisel must be planning to use this act of violence he committed against him in the future.
Of course, he just had to ruin his already exhausting day by piling more shit upon a mountain of garbage.
Not that his plans will work in the slightest, he'll make sure of that with the punishment he dolled out.
Aspen clenches his fists, walking faster ahead of his two comrades, desperate to unleash his rage somewhere that no one will see him.
That damn scumbag. Just wait until I crush him to death.
"Your Highness!"
The voice behind him makes Aspen stop in his tracks. He takes a moment to breathe in the smell of sterile, untainted air, trying to calm himself so that he won't appear too frazzled.
When Ignacia and Ignes finally catch up to him, they are panting slightly. The two betas stop just short behind him, and he turns around, already formulating new orders for them to carry out.
"Ignacia." he says, feeling his anger recede slightly at the attentive look she gives him. He stares at her face for just a second longer than he should, before exhaling sharply to release most of the tension from his shoulders.
"Put together a report for the emperor. Inform him that I've received a majority approval from the council members, and that I've settled all the objections brought forth. Include the fact that Marquess Grisel crossed the line with his remarks during the meeting, and that I suggest a fitting punishment be assigned. Omit the punishment I set myself for now. Oh, and don't forget about Viscount Cliden. Fools who sin together should be brought down together, after all."
Ignacia immediately gets to work, fiddling purposefully with her tablet, her quick fingers dancing along the screen as she opens up a new document.
"Yes, Your Highness. I shall get it done at once."
"Your Highness, is there a specific someone you wish to invite to the palace for that sparring session you wanted? Shall I provide you a list of the current most promising warriors in the imperial army?"
Ignes picks up where Ignacia trails off, evidently deciding to derail the conversation into neutral ground to prevent his anger from resurfacing.
Aspen thinks for a moment as he signals for them to follow him. As he walks, he catches a glimpse of the late afternoon sun shining through the window, and is suddenly reminded of just the person he wants to call on to dissipate his pent up anger.
With a smirk, Aspen rounds the corner of the corridor to head towards the elevator on the second floor's lobby.
"No need. Send an invitation to House Yutrien. I'm well acquainted with Duke Yutrien's eldest son. It's been a while since I've seen him."
Ignes falters just slightly as he hurries to keep pace with Aspen's long strides.
"House Yutrien, Your Highness? Surely, you are not planning on tormenting the poor lord of Yutrien again, are you?"
Aspen bursts out laughing at the accusation. "Tormenting? That is preposterous. If anything, that little brat gives me a run for my money at times. His quick improvements always amaze me."
"Well... If you insist, Your Highness. Though, I simply cannot fathom why you would take the time to persuade such a stubborn house. I have not seen any other family who has held on to their neutral stance for as long as the Yutriens have. They are certainly influential in the capital despite staying out of the focus of high society, but it is well known that Duke Yutrien will not sway even if you decide to favour his son."
"Favour? What nonsense. I am simply taking the opportunity to learn and improve from exchanging blows with a fellow warrior. I may be older, but he is talented for his age. Duke Yutrien's support has nothing to do with our sparring sessions."
Aspen waves away the suspicious gaze that Ignes fixes him with.
From his other side, Ignacia folds her tablet and secures it under her arm. "Your Highness, I have just sent the report to His Majesty. He will most likely see it in a half an hour or so, as he is still preoccupied with his daily teatime."
Aspen rolls his eyes, pushing the button for the elevator as they come to a stop in the lobby.
The servants who were in the vicinity immediately bow as they walk past, before scurrying away to complete their duties.
"Hah! Teatime. What a joke. He must be busy reminiscing about the times he spent with my mother. I heard that he doesn't even allow his other concubines to dine with him these days."
Ignacia sighs, her tone coloured by a level of exasperation that indicates just how much she's used to his sardonic remarks.
"Your Highness, as I have reminded you many a time, please refrain from speaking so crudely about His Majesty while we are in the Emperor's Palace. There are ears in the walls here that may turn against us if they overhear the ghastly things you say."
The soft chime of the elevator doors opening prompts Aspen to hurry inside. He jams his thumb against the close button, watching as they descend to the first floor.
"Alright, alright. I hear you. I just have to keep my mouth shut until we go back, is that it? Are you happy now?"
Ignacia responds teasingly, her nagging forgotten. "Not at all, Your Highness. You are free to say whatever you want. How could I ever dictate your actions, which are always correct and reasonable? That would be most selfish of me."
Aspen grins at the sound of her playful and brutally honest tone.
"I just wish that you would be a little more prudent about your words even when it seems like no one is around."
"Did you forget about my ability, Ignacia? Even if there is someone eavesdropping on us, I can detect them before they get within hearing range. Rest assured, I am not as careless as I seem to be."
Aspen responds with a smirk, strutting out of the elevator when the doors open. He is just about to descend the grand, central staircase situated just beyond the lobby when someone approaches them from the left, effectively shutting down the light-hearted banter between the two of them.
"Greetings to Your Highness, the First Prince."
Aspen stops with his foot poised on the top stair, his mood souring when he recognises the voice of the emperor's aide.
Expression wiped clean of any hints of humour or playfulness, Aspen turns to the man with a blank look on his face.
"...Greetings to you as well, Duke Sieren. What might you be doing here on a fine afternoon like this? I was under the assumption that His Majesty is busy with his daily teatime."
Duke Sieren bows before Aspen, his large frame folding smaller as he dips his head in a show of deference.
"Indeed, I would normally be accompanying His Majesty as his aide, even during teatime. However, today, His Majesty has summoned you to the Magenta Garden. I am under orders to escort you there as soon as I locate your presence."