Glory at my Feet

After James Potter arrived at the Palace, he realized one thing that should’ve scared him to his core.

Hiding in a shabby cart, pulled by only one horse and a tensed guard who wasn’t afraid to voice his dislike over this particular assignment, James saw through the peak of the broken curtain that all the available guards were posted at the gates.

It was almost afternoon, and James had had his fair share of encounters with the guards of the Palace doing their rounds at the market where every now and then, he would try and steal some food for the younger kids living in their makeshift shelter. That morning, however, James was greeted by the pleasant sight of not one single annoying golden shield or closed helmets. While it was welcomed to not deal with the guards, he knew something deeper must’ve been going on.

Despite his cautiousness, James couldn’t help to feel impressed at the lack of security. He even took his time to enjoy the usual chatter of sellers trying to get rid of their merchandise and kids running around the stalls, begging their parents to buy them candies or lousy toys.

Now, making his way to the Palace, James found out where most of the guards were. Their King, Tom Riddle, had decided to have all of them ready to welcome James at the Palace. It was underwhelming, to say the least. They all seemed tense, holding onto dear life to their spear, as if a ferocious beast was passing by.

Judging the way James was feeling, it wasn’t that far from the truth.

He had been living in exile for the last five years, give it or take it. After his mother’s death, James was far busier trying to stay alive and away from the Palace and all the related royal affairs than to think of something as irrelevant as time. Effie had been an excellent parent, raising him at the outskirts of their kingdom. They had lived quite comfortably in his mother’s old family Manor, away from the curious eyes of the people who wondered if Effie was hiding a prince of the Royal Family.

For a noble woman of such standing, Effie was unapologetic and brazenly brave, never afraid of speaking up for what was right. She taught James to be the same, especially in the face of danger.

In the end, that’s exactly what killed her.

James couldn’t blame her, not really. He heard from the townspeople that the cause of the fire at the Manor was from some drunk arsonists, but James knew better. As always, the reason behind the tragedy was the King in his rampant jealousy. He couldn’t have Effie, nor James, and decided to get rid of them both. He probably thought he succeeded. James wanted him to keep thinking that until his death.

During his first year he had been living as a beggar, eating the scraps he found on the trash cans outside pubs and stealing off from the markets. His town, however, was rather small and it was sooner than later someone would snitch to the royal army that a kid with the blessing of the sun was running around like a mouse. So he moved to the capital, which in hindsight it should’ve been a bad idea. It was where the Palace was and the streets were filled with people who worked for them and the royal family. At the same time, it was full of kids like him: Kids whose parents had been executed, victims of the monarchy or the poverty wave that was striking them. For James, it was like hiding a needle in a sewing kit.

“Boss! I bought us something to eat!” Arthur yelled, barely able to hold a bag filled to the brim.

All the kids gathered around Arthur with their amazed woos. They started pushing each other to see the food, which was a wide arrangement that James hadn’t seen in a while. There was cheese, not the molded slices they usually found and cut the edges. It was a whole truckle, several of them. There were white loaves of bread, still warm. James is usually the one in charge of getting them bread, since stealing it takes up more work. He had to hide behind the bags of flour and grab the loaves that were burned during the day. By the time he gets back to the shelter, his hair has turned white and his fingertips are burned from holding the loaves.

“I had never seen white bread before!” A kid yelled, excitedly holding the loaf, “Boss always brings back the black ones.”

“This fruit is new, too. They don’t even have it at the market,” Molly said, grabbing a bag of small and bright red fruit.

At that, James came closer to inspect the whole spoil. Indeed, what Molly was pointing at was a bunch of strawberries. His mother’s boyfriend, Fleamont, was a big fan of strawberries. Living near the sea, he was always able to get a pound before they went out of season, and then he would complain on how the weather was spoiling his fragarias.

“Strawberries aren’t even in season right now,” James pointed out and as expected, Arthur flinched, “Did you steal this from the carriage headed to the royal palace?”

He heard a gulp.

The kids started filling their mouths with as much food as they were able to, knowing exactly what was coming next.

“Rule number one?” James asked.

One of the younger kids, Fabian, stood up while still chewing up his food and answered, “Never steal anything from the royal family!”

There was a general sigh while the kids started to put back the food in the bag. James understood them, he really did. Before the accident at the Manor, before their lives were ruined by the King, he grew up enjoying numerous feasts surrounded by Effie and Fleamont. For these kids, who hadn’t had the privilege of living with wealthy parents or the nobility, this was the first time ever seeing this much food. James’ own stomach was roaring, the smells waking up the intrinsic hunger that hasn’t left him since then. He wanted nothing more than to fill his stomach, to melt the cheese into a loaf of bread with slices of apple on top and eat until he had enough.

But James has seen the danger of the palace, or more specifically, of the King’s gifts. He was wary of him, considering the King was capable of leaving pounds of poisoned food in a warehouse near the slums just to see who would steal it and die eating it. That was the life in Goldenleonard. You either die under the hands of the King or by a cruel punishment. If it isn’t either of those, the hunger will definitely do.

“I, uh, I couldn’t help it Boss!” Arthur cried out, “I was starving and they were probably going to toss it out anyway!”

“I once saw a carriage full of ham, bread and potatoes. There were lots of piles, taller than me” Bertha, the youngest of the girls, said, starry-eyed, “I heard they used that to feed the pigs inside the palace.”

Fabian scoffed, “While people like us never have anything to eat except shriveled potatoes or burned bread!”

“Yeah, they probably won’t even notice anything missing,” Arthur agreed.

The kids turned around to meet James’ eyes, all of them pulling their most innocent faces. It was cute, but James wasn’t one to sway easily for a bunch of pretty eyes. He has his rules for a reason and these kids, while understanding the violence of their King, didn’t truly know the limits of his cruelty. However, James did.

“Arthur, go put it back,” He ordered, and it was final.

His shoulders fell, clearly he thought all the group would be able to change his mind. He grabbed the bag once more and threw it over his shoulder, his head hanging low and biting his lip to not cry.

Damn it.

James was nothing if not a softie for those kids. Arthur, Molly, Fabian, Emma, Bertha and Gideon. All of them orphaned, living off the streets and trying to survive day by day. It wasn’t ideal and conditions could be a lot better, but it’s what James has and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

He touched Arthur’s shoulder and took the bag off him, trying to make sure it wouldn’t rip. Once he secured it, he pointed at the table with his chin.

“You can have my share today, I’m not that hungry,” He said, “I will put this back and will be right back. In the meantime, Emma is in charge.”

“Aye, aye, Boss!” All the kids cheered.

James didn’t bother to ask Arthur where he got the bag from or how far it was. James knew the one and only spot where the palace’s carriages stop before making their way to the Palace. He had been surveilling them for all these years, paying attention to the schedule rotations and the amount of guards in each round.

During this time of the day, the streets were rampant. Horses and carriages marching onto the streets, sellers pushing clients for final prices and villagers doing their chores. There was something peaceful knowing that every day, at the same time, the people of the village will go on with their lives. They didn’t have to worry about where their next meal might come from or if the peace they know of will be lost forever. James did.

Walking down the alleyway, a red piece of paper caught his eyes from the post board. It had recently been put, being right out front with its brand new seal. People usually avoid the post board, considering the amount of villagers who don’t know how to read and write. It’s also alway filled with dreadful news, such as tax raising. This notice, however, had the King’s signature at the bottom. James’ heart fell to his feet.

Well, what a bunch of bullshit.

As far as ploys from the King goes, this one takes the cake. The worst part is that people must have fallen for it, James was sure. Any other fourteen-year old named James would go running to the local authorities, risking himself to the ire of a King who had been ridiculed by his scheming son. If this was truly a notice of a name ban, instructions and details on how to change the name would’ve been provided. But no, they were focused on how to report violators.

It was a lie. The King didn’t stop his search. In fact, he was probably looking harder than ever.

James didn’t have anything to worry about. His golden blessing was very well hidden and all the kids at the shelter only knew him as Boss. With his dark brown curly hair and tanned skin, he didn’t look the part of a runaway prince but a sneaky thief. No one would glance at him twice, with his ripped clothes and dirty shoes. Still, he was cautious. He wanted to return back with the others and let them know about the notice, so he ran towards the carriages that were stopped.

The area had some guards around, lazily waiting on some perpetrators to approach. Once again, James’ suspicions were proved right. It was a cruel trap, putting food in these carriages, leaving them in an area surrounded by starving, desperate people and waiting for a hungry kid to pop by. It would save the guards a lot of time, instead of running around the villages, ripping doors open and inspecting every teen.

James spotted the first victim.

A little kid, with frail appearance and barefoot, was looking around the carriages. Well, at least he would save James’ time by finding the one carriage that held the food. When the kid finally sneaked under the curtain, James took his cue and followed him. He was ready to drop the heavy bag of food and take the kid as far away as he could from the carriage. The last thing he needed was another mouth to feed, but if the kid was by himself well, James couldn’t exactly ignore that.

“Hey, kid, be careful when sneaking here,” James whispered, softly putting his hand over the kid’s shoulder. He covered his mouth as well, just in case the kid was a screamer, “The royal guards aren’t that kind and…”

The kid wasn’t paying any attention to him.

His eyes were bulged, pointing with his finger at the pile of bodies in front of them.

Surrounded by the boxes carrying food for the palace, the guards had piled what seemed to several teens, all dead. There was a metallic smell in the air, probably blood. Some of them had their eyes open still, but it was hard to tell under the darkness of the curtain. James tried to count them, but the number went beyond what he thought was possible. Slowly, he removed his hand from the kid’s mouth, who started immediately to whimper.

“It’s the Fourth Prince,” he said, sobbing, “They’re looking for him. My name is James and I have to change it. They’re killing them.”

James heard the stomps from outside, the guards were rounding up. James couldn’t risk staying any second longer there and the kid wasn’t helping, trembling at the sight of the corpses. He was probably in shock, so James had no choice to cover his eyes and leaned closer to whisper:

“Be quiet, please,” He said, “You need to leave. There is a hideout for kids right on the old fish market, at the abandoned building. Tell them the Boss sent you because you are in danger, understood?”

The kid nodded, tears wetting James’ palm.

“Okay, now, we need…”

“Did you hear that?” A guard groaned, “Maybe one of the kids is still alive.”

“Argh, such a pain in the neck.”

James had to act quickly. He grabbed his namesake and threw him right towards the bodies.

“Close your eyes and pretend to be dead, hurry up!”

The kid did exactly that. He pushed himself between two of the kids and closed his eyes. Covered in cold limbs and the stench of corpses was enough to make anyone else throw up, but not them. James fought very hard to get the little food he was able to and no matter what, he was keeping inside the couple of grapes he had for breakfast.

He barely had enough time to position himself at the very back of the carriage when the light hit him, the guards ripping open the curtain to inspect the bodies. James closed his eyes.

“Ah, we killed all these kids and it’s not enough,” One of them complained, “Didn’t they say he’s fourteen? We should just kill all the fourteen-year olds and be done with it.”

“I mean, it’s a pretty common name,” The other one replied, “But we need to make sure it’s the Fourth Prince or else, who knows what will happen.”

“No one knows what the Fourth Prince looks like, we can pick any kid and just say it’s James.”

The other guard scoffed. “Don’t be an idiot. His Majesty will check for the golden blessing. After all, he has magic. Let’s keep moving on.”

James felt the movement of the carriage and once again, darkness engulfed them. He waited until the steps were heard farer and farer to deem sure to stand up. James grabbed the kid’s shoulder, no longer caring if he was still scared.

“Kid, you need to leave right now. Make sure the guards don’t see you.” James told him, “When you find the shelter, ask for Emma, she’s in charge. Tell them… tell them I’m sorry.”

James didn’t want to.

He wanted to take his namesake’s hand and run with him in the alleyways, dodging the sellers who recognized him and avoiding the guards. He wanted to jump, crawl the tube pipes and use the lower ceilings of the buildings to run even faster towards the shelter.

God of the Sun, why?

James never complained, not even once. He had lost everything and yet, he was determined to survive the circumstances of his birth. He didn’t complain when he barely had food to eat, when he had to sleep in the benches of the public parks or every time someone looked at him in disdain for being a beggar.

Once upon a time, he had all the riches in the world and the most important one, love. He knew unconditional love from his mother. That was the one and only treasure he couldn’t replace no matter what.

And yet, he was being tested.

Because Euphemia Potter didn’t raise a coward son who will hide behind other James, kids who didn’t know any better and were being brutally killed by the orders of a harsh king. James knows his cruelty and he won’t stop until all the kids who shared his name are dead, just in the hopes he might be, too. Someone needed to stop him, and Effie always said to face danger with a high chin and looking him straight in the eyes.

The Sun was still up in the sky, so James knew exactly what to do.

He grabbed a cloth and used it to cover his head. It smelled awful, like rotting meat, but it did the job well enough. He jumped out of the carriage and walked towards the gravel path directing towards the main town plaza. It was the only place that would be full of bystanders and guards alike.

He was right.

There it was, the fisherman once again complaining about little thieves who were always stealing his goods to two guards. James had a lopsided smile on his face, knowing exactly who it was behind the robbery.

“You there!” He yelled at the top of his lungs.

Several people turned around, including the guards and fishermen. Good, just what he needed. He walked straight towards those guards, making sure to keep his cover. With every step, James tried to manage his breath. Deep, in and out. He was about to do the most stupid thing he could possibly think of, against all of Effie’s teachings and probably putting his own wellbeing at risk, but it was the right thing to do. The only one he could think of to avoid the slaughter of more kids.

“You said to report anyone with the name of James, right?” He asked, “My name is James and I am this kingdom’s long lost Fourth Prince.”

He could hear the astonished gaps of the bystanders, clutching their clothes in disbelief. James knew he was giving his upper hand by announcing such a thing with a crowd, but it was necessary to keep him alive. The King wanted, no, needed him dead. Well, maybe a public declaration was the right requirement to buy himself some more years.

“No one ever saw the Fourth Prince while he was alive,” one of the guards answered, raising his spear, “And the reward is quite a sum. How do I know you’re not here after the money?”

“Deceiving a Royal Guard can land you in prison. Unless you have proof of your lineage, I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with us.”

James sighed.

He had more than enough proof.

The details of the death of Lady Euphemia were highly classified. Living on the outskirts granted you a sense of privacy you wouldn’t get in any other part of the kingdom, to which Effie was thankful for. She was a lovely noblewoman, always offering high-paying jobs in her Manor and doing her charity work with the starving kids in the nearest village. Effie had a huge heart, kindness pouring out of it. She could’ve gone far with her charity work, helping more people and providing aid to those in need, but secrecy was what she needed.

“It was told that Lady Euphemia died due to an arson in her Manor at the outskirts of Goldenleonard, but it wasn’t true,” James said, “The King, who always sent a carriage every Monday filled with gifts from the Royal Palace, arrived one day before her death. One of those gifts lit on fire, that spread throughout the Manor.”

James knew, because he saw the gift box the moment it arrived.

The King himself visited the Manor every few months, creating what many thought was an erratic pattern. His mother, however, quickly realized he visited on the months ending in 31st. He tried to keep composure while speaking with Effie, providing her with lavish gifts and luxury items that could not be found anywhere else in the world. She was, as always, unimpressed.

“He thinks everything in this world is his, but that is plain wrong,” Effie complained one time, pulling James closer to her, “Listen, James, no one can own the water in the ocean or the air in the wind. Much less, people. The King is not a good man, he is a monster that feeds and feeds with gluttony.”

James, who was eight at that time, was fearful of the image that her mother painted of the King. In his last visit, he begged Fleamont to hide with him while the King spoke with his mother, like he usually did. This time, the King was angry. He arrived with more gifts than ever, shining ones, and told Euphemia he wasn’t asking for her presence back at the Royal Palace, he was ordering her to go and leave behind the man who she so called her partner.

Euphemia refused.

The fire started that same night.

While the fire was engulfing every room and every hallway of the Manor, Effie woke him up and took him towards her room, the one on the second floor. James, unsure of what was going on, followed her lead without questioning. There was a commotion, screams of pain rumbling in the walls of the hallways and loud explosions of the Manor falling down in pieces. Effie didn’t even have time to close the doors, fire surrounding them. For a second, James thought that they were actually in hell. Before the fear paralyzed him, his mother pushed him towards the small balcony next to her bed. It was a frightening sight, such a height. But there was no time to make a rope with the linens, so Effie grabbed his hand and slowly started lowering towards the ground. It would be a nasty fall, but survivable.

“Mother, we are both jumping, right?” He asked her, but the look on her face was answer enough.

She was tired.

Euphemia had fought the King every time he dared to ruin this place with his presence, with every request and demand for compliance. Everytime he asked for something, not only Effie refused him but she mocked him.

The Royal Family’s Fourth Prince was kept hidden. She had a pramour for herself. In their Manor, away from the Palace, the King truly had no say in anything. And that irked him, to the point he turned his anger into fire. His mother didn’t have the strength to keep on fighting, it seemed.

James grabbed Effie’s sleeve, trying to pull her to the edge as well. He didn’t realize he started crying, tears cleaning his ashen’s cheeks. The smell was filling his nostrils and he was choking in a between sobs and coughs, but he couldn’t let go. He needed his mom with him, more than anything.

That moment, when the columns that kept the balcony were about to crumble, Euphemia decided it was time to give him two lessons that James needed to memorize if he wanted to survive.

“James, they will try to take you to the Royal Palace,” she yelled, her voice quivering with fear, “If you don’t run away, you’ll have to live under his watchful eye forever! You need to make sure you won’t get caught, so run and don’t stop running.”

James clingged harder, pleading. The only answer he received was the fire crackling, coming dangerously closer. The heat started to permeate on his skin.

“Remember what I’m about to tell you…”

Despite the flames around Effie, she gave him one last, big smile before letting his hand go.

James didn’t share the whole story with the guards, but the details he let slip were more than enough proof that he wasn’t some scammer who was only after the reward’s money. No matter how low he had fallen, James would never accept any help that came in the form of the King’s.

“That’s sensitive information!” The guard yelled, “But it doesn’t prove anything.”

“I feared you might say that.”

Goldenleonard is a vast kingdom in the middle of the continent, surrounded by clear rivers, wide forests and large mountains. Their main economic strength came from the commercialization of gold, a mineral found pretty much in every mine. Everything surrounding the Royal Palace was made of it, as proof of how abundant gold is. The surrounding countries always say this because, centuries ago, the God of the Sun blessed these lands with his tears. The rulers of the kingdom would be blessed as well, as a reward for their job.

James removed his impromptu cape, calling for the blessing inside of him. The warmness, who he had rejected ever since it came too close in that fire, thrummed happily under his skin. A fainted golden glow and a commotion from the public later, James knew he had successfully shown his golden blessing: Turning his hair into shiny, gold curls.

The guards lowered their spears and kneel, in clear disbelief. James closed his eyes, trying to avoid the scene that must be happening: Everyone kneeling, as proper protocol indicates in the presence of a member of the Royal Family.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“We are delighted to see that you are safe, Your Highness,” They said, “Allow us to escort you to the Palace.”

That’s exactly what they did.

Once the cart who brought him in stopped, James ignored the pointing orders of the guards or any curious member of the Court that had come out to see the spectacle. He simply asked where the nearest stable was and a wide-eyed lady pointed at the path on his right. James made himself at home over a high wood panel, surrounded by straw. There were several skylights, providing warm rays of Sun. It was a far cry from his bed back at the shelter, but there was a familiar sense that James appreciated. The smell of wood and cattle filling the air and the uncomfortable sensation of sleeping on a rock-hard surface was just what he needed to adapt to the idea of being at the Palace.

He tried to sleep, but it was fruitless. Guilt had settled inside his stomach, making him churn at the mere thought of how Arthur must’ve felt. If the other James had made it to the shelter, then he must have shared what they saw on the Palace’s carriage. And once the news of the return of the Fourth Prince spread, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out why James had left. Still, he wished he had stayed with the kids. Fabian and Bertha are the youngest and they must be feeling his absence now. They will need to reconvene and plan ahead now that their Boss is forever gone. Such grims thoughts.

James ended up spending a whole week on the stables.

Two young women visited him three times per day to bring him food, but James refused to touch it. Instead, he stole from the cattle. Bertha had been right, after all. They used enormous amounts of bread, potatoes and apples to feed them, so James didn’t feel that bad for stealing their food. It was higher quality than anything else he had eaten before in the streets, and the anger returned. James didn’t want anything to do with the Royal Family or their riches. He wanted out and right now.

James was sharpening a stake he found laying on the straw when the two young women, Marlene and Dorcas, came back. This time, however, they weren’t carrying a golden tray filled with the morning breakfast, but they were holding what seemed to be a set of brand new clothes.

“Your Highness, please!” Dorcas, the one with a higher-pitched voice, yelled, “If you refuse your Royal attire we will surely be banished from the Palace!”

“Yes, Your Highness!” Marlene agreed, “We won’t bring you more food, we promised. But at least put on your Royal attire. And now that we are at it, we’ll draw you a bath!”

“Oh, yes! You can’t refuse a nice, warm bath!”

Dorcas and Marlene weren’t that bad. For what they told him, their mothers used to be ladies-in-waiting for the Former Queen. After she passed, their mothers returned to their respective homes until the King himself visited them years laters, asking for their daughters to serve at the Royal Palace. For any other noblewomen, the fact that the King petitioned them in person would be a prideful ordeal. Dorcas and Marlene were smart, however, and had learned to stay in their lane. They had survived being in the Palace, and for that James admired them. But wearing the Royal attire was too much.

He pointed his stake and threw it between those two, hoping the Royal attire would fall from their hands. Both women flinched, but kept the clothes safe. What a bummer. Holding his dagger, James pointed at them before yelling:

“Get out of my sight, now!”

“What’s all this commotion about?” A new voice asked, quite bored.

“Oh, it’s simply just the Prince…”

James peaked from his spot to see who the newcomer was. To no one’s surprise, it was the King himself. His mother always refused to speak about him, but James gathered a bit of information on his own during those visits he used to pay them. He was always wearing his Royal gown, black with intricate patterns stitched with gold thread below his royal sash, covered by his red, velvety cape. His crown and jewelry, both heavy and made of gold, blinded anyone who saw it directly. He was always very proper and royal, with well-styled black curls and showing his golden blessing with his eyes.

Although the King never stayed for more than a couple of minutes, James couldn’t hold his gaze for more than a second. Looking straight to those golden eyes reminded him of the slits of the snakes that sneak to their garden with the only intention of biting.

He looked exactly the same, with a few more wrinkles. He sat on his throne, lazily resting his head on his fist. Eight guards had been tasked with carrying the throne on their shoulders, maintaining a steady pace.

“He’s been sleeping at the stables for a week now,” Marlene confessed to the King, gulping quietly, “He… he says he refuses to touch anything that, uh, that belongs to you, Your Majesty.”

One of his guards was quick to jump in the King’s defense.

“Such impertinence! Has he forgotten that everything in this Kingdom belongs to His Majesty?”

He hasn’t.

He feared that no one in Goldenleonard can forget that simple fact.

But, inside his head, Effie’s words whispered encouragingly: No one can own the water in the ocean or the air in the wind. Much less, people.

This King seemed to believe otherwise. And that pissed him off.

“This is not worth my time,” The King said, trying to subdue the guard, “We may be related in blood, but such childish tantrums are of no concern to me.”

James scoffed, uncaring if the King heard him. Of course they weren’t. He must’ve dozens of kids out there he had fathered, but refuse to claim at the lack of the golden blessing. He has a kingdom filled with starving people, violence and corruption. More pressing affairs, James was sure.

“We shouldn’t expect manners from him,” He lectured them, “He was raised on the streets, after all. Now, look. Which place do you think is more befitting of the Fourth Prince, up in the stable…?”

Then, he pointed at his throne.

“Or here?” He asked, “He seems to have found a place that suits him, so leave him be. He’s not one to listen to what others tell him, anyway.”

James thought that was the end of it. The King would make a gesture and the throne would turn around, heading back to the main Palace. Then, Dorcas and Marlene would leave as well and once more, James would be left alone. The loneliness at the stables was easy to bear, surrounded by a familiar environment that didn’t trigger him into committing an unforgiving mistake.

He thought wrong.

The King smiled at him, a mocking grin adorning his face.

“His own mother ended up paying for his stubbornness, so I suppose we know who he takes after.”

James jumped from the panel. Dorcas and Marlene gasped, probably thinking he had broken his foot. They didn’t know anything, no one knew anything. He had been jumping from higher heights since the moment his own mother had to let him go in order to survive. James never took his life for granted and tried to live in a way that could ensure what Effie wanted the most, for him to have a long life away from the Palace.

Things might not have worked out the way Effie desired, but James was still alive. And as long as he was, no one would bad-mouth Euphemia Potter in his presence, not even His Majesty.

He ran towards the throne, holding his dagger up high. The guards stopped him, a flurry of limbs trying to hold him in any way possible. The commotion was heard from all the Palace workers who were around, James was sure. He tried to hit the guards using his elbows and feet, but he was obviously outnumbered. Yet, his anger hadn’t subdued.

“Is that how your noble eyes saw it?!” He exploded, trying to raise his dagger and throw it right to the King’s throat. Damn the consequences, that man deserves it.

“Your Highness, calm down!” The guards kept yelling, holding his wrists to hold him down.

“Cease this behavior at once, Your Highness!”

“Your Highness…!”

“A tongue that sharp can be dangerous.” A new, quiet voice whispered.

James tried to trace the owner of that soft voice, and from the corner of his eye he saw the possible owner. A kid, probably around his age, came out of nowhere, probably curious on what the ruckus in the barn could be. James was taken aback for one moment that the guards stopped fighting him. The tension was still high up in the air, despite the calmness this kid eluded.

“My apologies, your Majesty,” The kid spoke again, directly to the King, “I dropped my book on my way here and fell behind, is something the matter?”

He was a pretty kid, James would admit. With short curls gracing his face, clearly bored and grey eyes who looked down. He must be someone of importance to the King, if he was able to speak to him without an audience. He was wearing a pair of black trousers and white, button up shirt. Despite the plain clothes, the thing that caught James’ attention was the shoulder-lenght cape that the kid was wearing. It had a golden clasp with the Royal Family emblem, marking him as a member of the household, maybe of lower ranking.

And yet, the King stepped down his throne to greet him.

Euphemia’s voice spoke clearly to him inside of his head, her second and last lesson she ever gave him before the fire took her away.

You must remember, James, she would say, do not approach anything. Do not touch anything…

The King drew near towards this kid, holding his hand to rub the uncovered skin of his neck. Whatever was going on inside the kid’s head, his face didn’t show it. A bored mask hiding his true feelings was put, wisely. The King lowered his hand, embracing the kid’s shoulders and pulling him near to him on a weird, side hug.

Whatever you see, pretend you did not see it.

Whatever you hear, pretend you did not hear it.

The King decided to leave them all behind to walk along with the kid, not lowering his hand for one second. The guards had no choice but to follow them, and Dorcas and Marlene were long gone, too. Suddenly, the barn felt too cramped and silent for James’ taste. There was something scary about the possessiveness the King displayed, as if he was seeing a beast about to eat an innocent, uncaring prey.

James was about to turn away from the sight of the King when the kid turned around, locking his gaze once more. He barely even moved his neck, but James saw the fright on those grey eyes, that he immediately understood what he was seeing. It made his stomach feel.

Even if you want something, pretend you do not want it.

The realization that James wanted something, someone desperately, was far scarier than anything he would come to face living there.