The maids' footsteps echoed through the brightly lit hall and the shadows of her steps danced with a stark black color against the walls, illuminated by the chandeliers. It seemed that the paintings glowed. If not white, then golden.
A brewing, golden color.
She arrived at the Great Door and pinched her lips tightly. Adjacent to the door hung two large paintings. One of the boys' parents. His mother, Queen Aniya, sitting beside her husband, King Ryder. He was white and pure native to this land while she was from another region. Still, the kingdoms shared a common religion, and because of this they ruled greatly.
It was only a few years later that he came, and there he sat in the second painting, smiling beside his father beside a burning fire. They kept straight faces, but a devious smile formed right at the corners of the prince's mouth, and a fire glowed inside his own eyes.
As golden as those eyes were.
The maid tapped her foot restlessly then knocked twice. She didn't like going in and rousing him herself because it was prohibited to touch royalty, and the boy was… always strange when he woke up.
She dreaded hearing another story about his so-called 'fantastic dreams.'
But when he didn't respond, she made herself ready to enter. Then something sounded inside and fortunately she stopped herself.
"It is alright Agatha; I am awake!"
It was the Prince's voice. Young, clean, and sweet. A voice like honey.
She caught her words, "Yes Sire. One of your inquiries will be here shortly."
"Thank you."
He really didn't need to thank anyone and, instead of feeling proud, it made her tense. The royals always had a certain way of talking and even some of their slightly rebellious youth stuck to a contact code.
But the prince, well…
He was as unpredictable in his speech as rain on a winter's day.
Still, she breathed deeply and nodded, "Will Sire have anything specific to add to his breakfast?"
There was a short silence, "mm, no thank you. Wait, mm. Maybe jam? Yes, bring me jam please."
She nodded again, "the butler will be with you shortly. Your lessons start at 9am."
If he had added anything else, she didn't hear, for her heels began tapping away quickly. His words always caught her off guard. The royals always spoke in repetitive manners, as if they learnt the same commands from birth.
'Fetch me my,' and 'get me,' and 'call the'...
She learnt to predict their words and could finish the task by just reading their eyes. But the prince made it very difficult. His eyes were strong, stunning, and stark, but they held only the looks of a dreaming fever and a daziness.
With his fathers blue eyes, and mothers brown, they had merged to form the boy's golden eyes. He was the only one in the kingdom to have eyes like this, and it became the look of royalty itself.
It's what made the boy known as Prince Daedrik so fond of, so popular.
Who knew that his power would infect more than just miles of land.
And that, soon, he would hold a power as jet black as hatred.
A fate larger than destiny itself
…
Well, not Daedrik, that's for sure.
He woke up to mucus and spit being swaddled all over his face, and no matter how much he fended, the great beast would not humble down.
"Basil!"
Finally, the golden retriever gave in and turned away from her owner as she plopped off the bed. His alarm was always Agatha and, when he happened to fall asleep again, there was always Basil to wake him up a second time.
Still, he smiled and pulled open the covers. She was groomed every morning, afternoon and night, but tiny hairs still flecked over the sheets and he quickly brushed them away. Agatha hated when Basil slept with him. She said that dogs weren't clean and that they caused diseases, even with Basil's good hygiene schedule, and as much as Daedrik wanted to listen to her, he couldn't deny his lifelong friend a cozier place to sleep. Her bed rested right beside his large vanity and array of dressers, but the night was cold and, really, he couldn't blame her.
It was the heart of winter afterall.
He pulled away the covers and walked into his bathroom. It was tiled nicely, with hanging curtains and a hallway of its own. The water was fresh, rune, and just as he came out carrying a towel, another knock came.
Outside stood the Esquire of the Body, better known as his changing maidsman.
"Here you are, Sire."
"Thank you Egil," he said. "How did you sleep today?"
The man looked away, clearly embarrassed, as the boy pulled off his shirt right there and then. He brought the clothing racket in and shut the door behind him.
"I slept, uh, well. Thank you Sire."
"You're welcome."
He began buttoning up the shirt, then realized that the order was wrong and started again.
"Say, Egil, I had the strangest dream today."
He fidgeted, not knowing what to say, "I hope Sire had…otherwise slept well."
"I did! How did you know? Well, my dream today was very strange. Yes, very indeed. Do you want to hear about it?"
The Esquire licked his lips dryly, "I'm, uh, sorry Sire, but I have business in the kitchen to attend to."
Daedrik slacked considerably, "Oh…okay then. Well, maybe this afternoon then? Ill tell you about it then."
Finally, he managed to fit on his shirt and hopped around in the long cotton pants. The material stuck to his sock and he jumped like a bunny for a good minute or so.
"Does Sire need any help?"
"There! I got it," finally, Daedrik looked up to the young man and frowned. "Hey, why are you all red? Do I have something on my face?"
"No Sire! Not at all. It's just, well…"
He looked down, seeing himself pantsless and nearly naked, "oh right. Sorry about that."
He finished dressing, chucking all the sleeping clothes on the rack to later be washed. As Egil turned away, he bid a final due and hoped the prince a fine day.
"I will! And remind me to remind you to tell you about my dream, you won't want to miss it."
He smiled, watching the man walk off, then closed the door to finish off the rest of the change. In a few minutes, Agatha would be back with his food on a tray and he'd eat a small snack in his room before heading off to the hall to have the real breakfast. Ryder, King Ryder, was always busy. But he made time to join his mother and him during breakfast, and then they split their separate ways. The king attended to king-like duties, his mother tended to problems within the castle and he attended lessons. His tutors came from neighbouring villages and, as boring as most of the subjects were, he tended to like learning about the different cultures they lived. One of his teachers was a man from the far North, from low blood, but he taught Great Swordsmanship and taught Daedrik well over five months. The man would be in his third class for today and so he was naturally excited. It was why he left the room five minutes early, with his hair barely brushed and his laces untied. Ryder had stated that they'd meet in the Great Hall to discuss matters, and with the man being such a great teacher, Daedrik assumed it could only be good news.
He left the room, tapping lightly along the long, ancient hallways. The ceilings broke high up with chandeliers, and the walls were ambushed by large golden-paned paintings. It had the aura of esteemed royalty, as well as a sickening red from the velvet carpet which absorbed his footsteps like a sponge. The Great Hall hosted all their parties- all of which he HAD to attend ( the agony, oh the agony )- and it was also the entrance way into the castle, which was located on slightly higher ground from the village central. It wasn't their greatest hall; that existed on the other side of the castle and hostel balls, but meetings were held here and no doubt was this one important.
King Ryder never called for tedious discussions.
So when he arrived at the doors, Daedrik only peaked in. His father stood, wearing his black outfit tied with a robe around his shoulders, and it hung to the ground like resting bird wings. He always wore his crown which within itself was a magnificent sight to see. Such a thing was worth a million minerals. Minerals that men died over.
He spoke to someone but faced away and blocked whoever it was. And when Daedrik impulsively leaned forward, he turned towards his son.
Inside stood his current Swords Master, Master Arachnode.
"Enter, Daedrik."
He did so quickly, meeting his father at his side in just seconds despite the sheer size of the hall. Really, it was a miracle he could hear the man from so far away, but Ryder was known for his booming, yet soothing voice. Maybe his paternal ways had numbed Daedrik to its hardness.
"You have had ten lessons with Mr Arachnode. Is this correct?"
The tone was gentle, tired, but strict. He nodded quickly then looked at his teacher.
The man was from Lower Elven blood, which was poor and often interbred, which made him weak. Still, he had blue eyes and blond hair, unlike his balled kin. Maybe that made him better, but being interbred was one hell of a title to overcome.
His expression read nothing but a contempt calmness.
"Yes. Eleven lessons, counting this one for this afternoon," he swallowed, "but Master Arachnode has been a wonderful teacher."
Ryder nodded, "no doubt he has. Would you say that, during your lessons, you have learnt plenty from him?"
The teacher was watching him keenly. What did he want him to do? Say yes? Why were they talking about this? Daedrik was 5'7, short for his age and rested low by his fathers chest. Still he nodded confidently.
"Yes. Ive learnt plenty. And if this conversation has anything to do with keeping Master Arachnode as my Swords teacher, then yes. I'd like him to stay."
Ryder nodded, then turned to the young man. He wasn't human, as Lower Elven Scholars were part of the weak elf species. But he WAS humanoid, which meant his features were advanced, like an orc or a witch, not like a wild animal.
"I assume you've been training close to the perimeters?"
He bowed, "Yes sire. Never leaving the forest threshold."
"I should expect so." Ryder hesitated for a moment. "Has Daedrik improved?"
"Yes sire. He has been one of my easiest students to teach over. I have provided a detailed analysis on his improvements over the past few weeks."
"And your knowledge? Has the neighbouring kingdoms gotten back?"
He shook his head, but still smiled, "there is nowhere else I can learn my skills."
Ryder winced, "then you must."
Daedrik looked between the two. Must what? What was happening?
Luckily the confusion only lasted a few moments, as Ryder turned back to his son. He stared at the grown man, with deep brown eyes and brown hair, with a patchy beard and tired eyes. His own father looked like his complete opposite. Daedrik wondered if he thought this too.
But he jumped at the opportunity before any decisions were made, "Master Arachnode is my favourite teacher. He teaches better than any of the others. If it has to do with his blood, then I really don't mind-"
"Daedrik," King Ryder interrupted, "this has nothing to do with your teachers heritage."
"So he'll stay?"
"Yes."
Daedrik breathed a sigh of relief and the two grown men turned back to each other. It really was true, Master Arachnode was his favourite teacher. At first it was hard getting used to his…exotic appearance, but he taught sword skills and really, it was the only thing he paid much attention to. Besides, what did astronomy teach you, really? Classes bored him, and why shouldn't it? Spending all his time in the kingdom, never being allowed to step outside without hundreds of guards? It was tiring.
They held each others gaze, "Master Arachnode, it has been a pleasure to have you teaching my son."
He held out a hand. A handshake.
"I hope to hear of your return."