Rain poured like it was trying to erase the ground, turning the courtyard into a patchwork of puddles while the kids ran through it, splashing mud and laughing as cold crept up their legs and soaked the warmth out of their skin.
Inside the palace, the place was wrapped in silence quite the opposite of the bubbly laughter of the kids running outside. Each fireplace, eaten by the fire, crackled as the wood burned and the sparks hissed, shifting slowly until they slid down into the dark throat of the hearth.
"Is there any word from the councilor?"
Baron Alistair murmured, his fingers trembling as he clutched his damp handkerchief.
"He was supposed to be here by now. If he does not arrive soon, we are going to suffocate in our own skin."
Added by the Marquess, as he tried to maintain the lowered tone of his voice.
"If his highness does not step through those doors in the next five minutes, I fear none of us will leave this room alive-
-Hush, do you want him to hear you?"
Count Esmond muttered back, his eyes darting frantically toward the door before fixing back on the still figure at the end of the table.
"Just... pray that his highness will not add a thunder to the storm."
The other stated as they tried to loosen their heavy clothes, tugging at collars and sleeves like they could loosen the discomfort along with the fabric. As the supposed intense cold from the rainy weather made them drip with sweat, their clothes clung to their backs, and sweat gathered along their brows and temples while the handkerchiefs in their hands rose and fell in frantic, practiced motions.
Wiping their faces, swallowing their saliva, then wiped again, making the cloths damp enough to feel the sticky texture in the fabric. Still, their eyes couldn't seem to look away from the man sitting at the far end of the table on the right side.
It was Sebastian, who sat calm, his eyes shut tight, making his long lashes visible even from afar. His head rested against his palm, legs crossed, posture relaxed, yet the room felt heavier with every breath he took. Each time he exhaled, the noble's chest seemed to pull the air tight around everyone's ribs, making them barely able to move.
Their expressions were careful, so careful they almost looked like an idiotically porcelain doll.
And every so often, one noble would glance at him, then look away quickly, pretending it was nothing. Another would try to wipe their sweat, but their hands shook. Their breathing turned slow, matching the quiet rhythm of the man in front of them as the nobles could not ignore the loud, restless beat of their own hearts.
*Creack~*
"Glory to the Sole Heir of the Throne. The hope and pride of the kingdom!"
The nobles had greeted enthusiastically as they frantically stood on their seats as if his arrival had save their necks from Sebastian's blade.
"Hah!-"
Ciarán scoff seeing a cold sweat sheeted their skin and the manic panic vanished from their face before his eyes gaze flicked on Sebastian, watching as the other move slow, cautious like they were afraid to wake a tiger in his den.
When all of a sudden his voice covered the room, his tone was soft but every words he spat out of his mouth just all scream sarcasm.
"You must be utterly exhausted."
Ciarán grin, his voice low but steady.
"It looks like your body hasn't gotten the memo yet."
The air in the room grew heavier with every word he spoke. Yet, despite the mockery, Sebastian remained unmoved. He sat just like a statue, the majestic one, unreal to look at that could easily be mistaken for a cold stone if not for the quiet, soft breath that parted his lips.
"The war hasn't even crossed our borders yet, but it looks like you've already fought on the front line."
He added. But instead of the sharp bickering the nobles expected to break out between the two, Sebastian remained uncannily calm, catching everyone off guard.
His long lashes, pale as golden wheat, fluttered slightly before he opened his eyes as the nobles fear swallow caught in the their throats, their grips tightened against their own hands, the exact moment those solemn, oceanic blue eyes shifted and met Ciarán.
"Greetings to His Highness, the Crown Prince."
Sebastian's voice was entirely calm, though his eyes were heavily shadowed by deep, dark circle as he stared blankly at him, making him frown.
He was wearing a prestigious midnight black uniform, seamlessly tailored with royal blue accents, adorned with shimmering gold chains and lavishly laced embroidery that swept across his chest.
Yet, despite those elegance, the way he looked washed out made him a beautifully dressed corpse prepared for burial.
Annoyed and deeply confused, Ciaran signaled the nobles to sit, though his gaze never left him.
Usually, the two of them were never quiet. Every time they encountered each other, was a start of a war where they most likely provoke and teased each other as neither of them could stand losing. But now, it was as if Sebastian were possessed. He wasn't acting like himself at all. Though, as Ciarán stared at those tear trough eyes, he realized this wasn't the very first time he had seen Sebastian look so completely dead inside.
I wouldn't be surprised if that woman was the one who put him on that spot.
Ciarán thought bitterly, his eyebrows drawn down together between his eyes as his mouth curled slightly into a scowl.
He was so deeply lost in his own thoughts that he didn't even notice the nobles' patient gaze at him, waiting for his lead, until Sebastian's voice cut through the silence.
"Your Highness."
Sebastian murmured, stealing Ciarán's attention as he snapped out of his thought glaring directly at him. But instead of hearing another mockery like he usually would, seeing how Sebastian simply averted his eyes left him completely thrown off. Annoyed and startled by his sudden avoidance, Ciarán rolled his eyes as he slowly lifted his right hand, signaling the nobles to finally proceed with the meeting.
The room was then quickly filled with the tense murmur of military strategies as the nobles began throwing out urgent reports and ideas, debating the suspicious, sudden influx of foreign Russian nationals crossing the borders. The atmosphere grew heavier as they discussed a captured Russian smuggler caught distributing illegal contraband, followed by breaking news of a high ranking spy detained near the palace gates. The Marquess then threw maps onto the table, arguing over supply lines, troop positioning, and readiness for an impending conflict.
Ideas and opinions were traded back and forth across the long table, but whenever the nobles turned their eyes to Ciarán for royal approval, they found the prince completely checked out. He wasn't looking at the maps, or the files, or the nobles. His gaze remained entirely fixed on Sebastian.
"Ahem. Your Highness, what are your thoughts on this matter?"
"I…"
Ciarán hesitated, caught completely off guard.
"Allow me to speak on behalf of His Highness."
Sebastian interrupted smoothly, cutting through Ciarán's silence.
"Just as you stated, we must secure our borders immediately. The spies are only the vanguard. We cannot foresee where they'll strike next. Next time, they might smuggle explosives without our notice, and the damage would be catastrophic."
Hearing Sebastian's flawless defense, the nobles nodded in satisfaction and murmured their agreement. Before he shifted his gaze back to Ciarán, awaiting his official verdict.
"What are your thoughts, Your Highness?"
Sebastian asked, his voice was composed. Calm as he looks at the arrogant, satisfied smile tugged at Ciarán's lips filled with pride, because no matter how much they bickered, Sebastian was always there to save his face.
"It seems you've already taken the words right out of my mouth."
Ciarán declared with poise.
"What else is there to say? We shall follow the Commander's strategy. I leave the logistics, the troop deployments, and the border security entirely in your hands."
With the royal decree given, the officials bowed and trickled out of the room at a quick pace, relieved to feel their heads still on their necks.
The moment the heavy doors closed, Sebastian's shadow lengthened across the floorboards as he also planned to leave when Ciarán spoke, his voice faintly echoed against the bare stone walls.
"The Marchioness."
He stated quietly like he was hesitant to say it at first.
Though hearing it, made Sebastian froze on his feet. For a fraction of a second his pupils blew wide, swallowing his iris, leaving him as pale as a white sheet. Ciarán watched closely as his hand trembled slightly, reaching into his pocket to pull out a small vial of medicine.
"Ha....-Huff!"
Just as Sebastian was about to swallow the pills, Ciarán lunged forward, his grip tightening firmly around his wrist.
"I can give her head to you…"
He mumbled against his ear, his voice was low as it also scream for danger.
Hearing it, Sebastian let out a breathless, hollow laugh, lowering his head slightly.
"Sometimes, the jokes you utter are extremely hilarious, Your Highness."
Ciarán's face darkened, a deep frown covered his features.
"Do you honestly think I am joking?!"
"Perhaps you are—"
Ciarán's grip tighten as he snapped, cutting him off entirely.
"Tsk! Seriously, what is wrong with you?!"
He explode, his voice echoed in the room as he furiously catch his breath.
"You keep calling me Your Highness. Your highness! YOUR HIGHNESS! For Christ's sake It was so entirely unlike you! And whenever I offer you help, you always push me away!"
"....."
Sebastian offered no reply. It is when the ringing echo of Ciarán's voice died out before he finally spoke, his voice was utterly blunt as he stared at him with empty eyes.
"Because I do not need it."
Sebastian replied, his voice was firmed.
Staring into those sunken eyes, Ciarán swallowed hard. He felt himself drowning not from fear, but from the bottomless hopelessness that bled through his gaze. It was a look entirely deadened and stripped of life, like staring into an ocean at night, where the tide could pull you closer and closer until you were never reached by the light.
"I would appreciate it if you acted blind to my affairs, just like His Majesty the King and the Queen do."
He affirmed, as if he didn't care whether his words would leave him scarred.
"You…you know I've always tried to help you... e-even back then."
His reply made him scoff.
"Try?"
"Ha!- Yes, that is right. You only try. So do nothing. I will handle it all MYSELF."
With a sharp jerk of his arm, Sebastian wrenched his wrist from Ciarán's grasp before he swallowed his medicine dry.
Seeing the way Sebastian has acted all arrogant made him force down a heavy, frustrated sigh.
"Ha!—no wonder Keith always had a HARD TIME with you."
Ciarán scoffed, while Sebastian's expression soured into a heavy frown.
"You never listen to anyone."
He added while his footsteps drawing closer to Sebastian.
"Just like back then, when I told you not to participate in the war, you—"
"ENOUGH!"
Sebastian's voice broke across the room, it was sharped as a blade that jolted the sleepy guards outside the door awake. Cautiously exchanging panicked glances not daring to barge in. They just stood there frozen in the corridor, realizing that even the swords in their hands wouldn't be enough to save them from the hell that was about to break loose.
"Just because I am laying low these days does not mean I cannot still draw my sword to cut your throat!"
Instead of backing off, Ciarán smirked.
"Ha! Now that is more like you!"
He then boldly patted his shoulder, confused. As a sudden chilling, playful smile spread across Sebastian's lips.
"And do not forget..."
He spoke as he paused, a mocking grin flickering across his mouth.
"...perhaps you should start listening to Keith, too."
He whispered, wiping the smug smile from his face. Seeing how he was about to tick off like a bomb. Surely, Sebastian wasn't done yet, he was just starting, as he intently added fuel to the fire fully aware who always held a upper hand.
"Maybe if you actually did, he might like you a little bit."
The words left Ciarán fuming in a rage of defeat, as Sebastian shattered his composure entirely, leaving him with gritted teeth, lost in words like it had died in his throat making him unable to speak while his jaw tense and silent. All he could do was squeeze his hands into tight fists, as he helplessly stare at Sebastian's figure that was slowly drifting away.
"HA!—Fuck, did I lose again?!"
Ciaran cursed, dragging a hand through his hair. His fingernails left sharp marks against the table.
*RUMBLE!*
A sudden flash of lightning was then slashed outside the room, casting his frustrated silhouette against the window.