Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jack was running.

No, scratch that. He was bolting, borderline sprinting. His feet slammed against the Earth with heavy thunk thunk thunks, each step fiercely rattling his ribcage. A dense forest surrounded him, and the foliage around him passed in a singular green blur. Honestly, he couldn’t remember why he was running or what he was running from, but it didn’t matter—he loved it.

The way the wind wildly weaved through his hair, how his muscles felt both cool and sweltering at the same time, and how completely, utterly free he felt. A loud, boisterous laugh exploded out of Jack’s chest. This feeling was his favourite; feeling like a bird, unrestricted and floating (or in his case, sprinting) wherever he pleased, whenever he pleased.

It was only when his lungs felt like they had burst into flames that he stopped, slowing his sprint to a jog, and his jog to a stroll. As Jack evened out his breathing, he observed the landscape around him, realizing that he had no clue where he was. That was unusual for him. He narrowed his eyes and tried to spot any familiar areas or landmarks, alas to no avail. A peculiar, fearful feeling suddenly thumped violently in his chest. Jack knew his way around these parts, so why was he lost? Or, better question: where was he?

Trepidatiously, Jack walked forward with gentle footsteps, as if he feared the ground was going to break away beneath him like glass. He cautiously went onwards for about a minute or so more before the world in front of him went dark. In one moment there was something, the next there was nothing. A breath caught in his throat and he slowly looked over his shoulder. Behind him was a luxurious woodland, but ahead was nothingness, and that nothingness remained even after he blinked one, two, three times.

Then it started moving.

Jack startled and took several apprehensive steps away, but it made no difference. It was like the abyss grew a mind of its own and started expanding. The darkness began to stretch high above, covering every inch of sky and cloud in its path, and extended forwards towards him. He kept taking fearful steps backwards, eventually breaking out into another sprint, this time in the way he came. No matter how fast he ran, the bleak void remained hot on his heels. It was silent, which was the worst part, as it just soundlessly consumed everything in its way. Every rock, shrub, and tree was overtaken and simply disappeared into the darker than night nothingness.

Feeling his stamina depleting, Jack yelled out for help, pleading for someone to help him—only to get no response whatsoever, the echo of his voice being the only audible thing above his desperate footsteps and pounding heart. Even his own echo was mocking him. His mind spat out a dozen profanities, but screeched to a halt as Jack tripped over a tree stump in the middle of the path that definitely was not there before.

His body slammed against the dirt, causing his exposed arms to feel raw and sting horribly. He hissed and cradled his left arm with his right, eyes screwed shut in pain. That small window of vulnerability was all the dark abyss needed to briskly encase Jack, starting with his legs up to the last hair on his head. When Jack opened his eyes, he couldn’t tell. There was nothing. He craned his neck up and watched as the nothingness swallowed up the last of the forest around him, and Jack's heart squeezed like a wrung-out rag.

Then he fell. Into what, he couldn’t tell, but he was falling.

And falling.

And falling...

Jack Larkin-Kelly woke up with a start, his entire torso shooting straight up like a bullet. He was panting hard and grasped the blanket that covered him in an iron grip. His gaze darted down and focused on a small, defined area of the blanket, darting eyes refusing to move elsewhere. Then, he counted from ten to one in his head, a method his Mother taught him to calm down and clear his mind.

Ten, nine; he cleared his head of frantic thoughts, forcing them all into a deep corner of his mind and keeping them there. He put them in a steel box, locked it and burned the key.

Eight, seven, six; he willed his hands and legs to stop shaking, and his eyes followed suit.

Five, four, three; he swallowed thickly and cleared his throat, relishing at the feeling of fresh, cool oxygen entering his lungs.

Two, one; he stilled his thundering heart, and raised his gaze upwards.

That was a dream. It was just a dream. Jack forced a mirthless laugh as he repeated it like a mantra in his mind, his breaths now coming evenly and with ease. Him running through the forest and being consumed by a sudden abyss was all just a dream. A radical one at that, and Jack reminded himself of his abyss-free life to keep any negative thoughts from rattling the lock of their cage.

He was Prince Jack Larkin, he lived in a castle at the head of his kingdom, far away from any all-consuming nothingnesses. For several moments, Jack found comfort in those facts. He let them rest in his mind, his muscles relaxing until his entire body was limp.

Then he remembered. He was Prince Jack Larkin. He lived in a castle at the head of his kingdom, and had to actually do Prince Things. Just like that, Jack groaned and collapsed back onto the mattress.

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and rubbed them in small circles, both in annoyance and as an attempt to not fall right back asleep, looming abysses be damned. Being a prince meant he had little to no freedom, the title being nothing more than shackles that held him back. Every day was filled with boring meetings and inspections and sitting on a throne that made his back feel like a spear was driven directly through it.

He wanted nothing more than a whole day, maybe two, to adhere to his own schedule and do anything and everything he wanted. Sure, he snuck out sometimes to have fun with his village friends (with them, he was Jack Kelly as opposed to Jack Larkin), but he would always have to return to the castle. That didn't really count.

All he’s saying is that it would be wonderful if he could drop his “prince” title for a couple of days and just have fun with his friends, no bleak voids involved, thank you very much.

He was ready to go back to sleep and blame any missed meetings on having spent a late night reviewing policies and treaties (of which he definitely did not do) when there’s a sudden knock at his bedroom door. The knock was followed by a meek but audible voice, “Your Highness? Are you awake?”

Jack recognized the voice instantly, and an ear-to-ear grin split across his face.

Actually, there was one part of his royal life that Jack didn’t despise.

“Come in!” Jack yelled as he now eagerly pushed himself out of bed and stretched his limbs. The tall door at the front of his room slowly creaked open, and in stepped Jack’s personal valet.

Being a prince came with a lot of givens, one of them being that he had dozens—if not hundreds—of people in the castle ready to serve him in any way at a mere moment’s notice. Although, Jack didn’t like forcing others to do things for him (even though that’s their literal job), so he rarely summoned them. His valet, however, was a much different story.

While there was numerous staff for general things, like chefs, guards, doctors and dressmakers, none of them really interacted with the royals all that often unless they were requested to be seen. There were two castle staff who were exempt to this rule, though. The Queen’s lady-in-waiting, Sarah Jacobs, and the Prince’s valet, David Jacobs. The two were personal servants that attended to them specifically, tasked with tending to their smaller errands they couldn’t make time for, helping them with their image (both literal and public), relaying messages to and for them, and keeping them on schedule—among many other things. At first Jack wasn’t thrilled with having someone personally tending to just him and him alone, but it was hard to stay mad when that someone was as cute as David is.

David walked into the grand room with a parchment scroll in hand, and once he was halfway to Jack, he bowed courteously. “Good morning, Your Highness.”

“Good morning Davey,” Jack used the nickname he had given him the first day they met, and laughed when his hand fidgeted slightly. He looked David up and down, noting that he was neatly dressed and groomed already. "You dressed up all nice just for me? I’m flattered.”

Like a reflex reaction, David hid his face with the scroll and cleared his throat, “You have a few things scheduled for today,” Jack couldn’t tell if David chose to ignore what he said on purpose or not. He shrugged. “After breakfast with Her Majesty, you have horsemanship lessons until ten o’clock, then an appointment to decide on some goods we’ll be sending to the kingdoms overseas. Also, the head chef has requested your presence sometime today to try a new recipe he’s created. He wants approval to serve it at official events from now on.”

“Tell the chef I’ll be there sometime today, whenever I have the time,” Jack yawned. “Anything else?”

“Not that I—oh! Her Majesty asked that I inform you she has something important to tell you at breakfast.”

That definitely grabbed Jack’s attention. In an instant, his eyes were on him. “Something important?” He cocked an eyebrow. David nodded. “Liiiike… what?”

Her Majesty, otherwise known as the queen—or Jack’s mother—was a regal leader who led with wisdom and grace. She was thoughtful, meticulous, and highly respected among other kingdom leaders and monarchs. Because their kingdom lacked a king, Queen Medda Larkin ruled on her own, and what a ruler she was.

That being said, it surprised Jack that she supposedly had a surprise for him. She usually let him know everything she did, was doing and would do; partly because they were just that close, and also because he would have to take over the throne one day as the only royal child. So what could she possibly have to tell him that was so important she was playing up the dramatics?

Alas, to Jack’s dismay, David responded only with three words. “I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure?” Jack all but whined. He sauntered over to David and casually threw an arm over his shoulder as if they weren’t just prince and servant but best friends. David flinched at the contact, eyes darting to where their bodies first connected. “She didn’t say anything else?”

“S-She did not. I’m sorry, Your Highness, if she told me more I would relay it to you. All she said was to tell you to expect something important when you meet her this morning.” David focused on scribbling furiously on his scroll instead of the gentle touch of Jack’s hand on his shoulder, or the feeling of his eyes scanning the side of his face. For a moment it felt like he’d never break his gaze, but right before David was about to crack, Jack sighed and slumped away, going over to his wardrobe. The heave of relief he released was almost embarrassing.

“What am I wearing today?” Jack asked. He opened the doors to his dressing room, of which was attached to the side of his bedroom.

Another responsibility of being a prince’s valet was picking their outfit, because a royal obviously couldn’t be bothered with such a menial task. Besides, David was the one with the knowledge of proper ways for a royal to dress for every occasion. Jack could only say if something was clothes or not.

“Nothing too fancy,” David went over to join Jack at the entrance of the glamorous wardrobe. He bit back a laugh at Jack’s incredulous expression, because to him, every article of clothing he owned was fancy. “Here, I’ll pick out an appropriate outfit.”

Then, David stepped into the large dressing room that was at least half the size of the bedroom and scanned the mostly full racks and shelves with analytical eyes. Jack quietly observed with a certain kind of awe on his face. He watched him move fluidly throughout the maze of a closet, seemingly undeterred by it’s size. His eyes rested on David’s side profile with his crystally blue eyes and dark eyelashes.

Before Jack could fully descend into that daydream, David emerged from the closet with a clean and proper outfit for him, the top and bottoms each on a seperate clothing hanger in either hand. It was simple enough, but still fitting for a prince; a fit black tunic with delicate gold detailing and shiny buttons, a red collar and sash paired with matching black trousers.

Though he knew he would be itching all over before lunch, Jack nodded in approval and took the hangers from David with a thankful smile. “Thanks a million, Dave.” There was a beat of silence, then he smugly continued. “Would you mind giving me a bit of privacy? I’m sure you’d be thrilled to see me changing, but it’s a bit too early for any of that. Don’t ya’ think?”

David’s face immediately flushed a vibrant scarlet. For several moments, his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, most likely trying to think of something intelligible to say without profusely stuttering. After a few seconds, he took in a deep breath, nodded one sharp nod and spun on his heel to exit—admittedly walking a bit faster than what would be considered normal or casual.

Once the entrance to his room clicked shut, Jack laughed a hearty laugh he was sure David could hear from outside the room. Soon his laughing fit finished, and he unfolded the selected outfit with precision, careful to not wrinkle the clothes. He had been on the receiving end of too many if-you-wrinkle-the-clothes-that-will-ruin-the-fabric-and-it-takes-forever-to-iron-properly-so-help-me lectures in too many forms; politely but with a sharp chiding tone from the staff (he’s sure if he wasn’t royalty they would yell at him, honestly), and a more stern and tired version from his mother. So he figured he’d save himself the trouble.

He got dressed into the clothes, smoothing out imperfections in the fabric with one hand and running the other through his hair until it’s presentable enough, because he knew no matter how he styled it David would fix it on his own when he came out. When he was satisfied with his reflection in his imposing vanity, he exited his bedroom and met David in the hall, ready to get his princely day over and done with.

And for the record, yes, he did fix Jack’s hair.

———

The life of a monarch was both incredibly predictable and spontaneous at the same time, Jack had learned. It was predictable in the way that he had a meeting with some duke or duchess every other day, and always had a pile of contracts on the desk in his study to look through and choose to sign or not sign.

However, there were also the unplanned parts of it all. He couldn’t walk through a hallway without at least one person pulling him to the side and asking for his thoughts on something or requesting his presence at an event. And depending on what they wanted, it could take him anywhere from thirty seconds to thirty minutes to satisfy that side quest.

That being said, he definitely silently begged David to give an excuse so he didn’t have to comply on multiple occasions.

Today though, there was no excuse for him to not go see the royal chef first thing and give his approval on that new recipe. This, though, he didn’t mind. It was a delicious stew that Jack gladly helped himself to. But then one of the garden staff saw him, and asked if he could please please please come see the new blooms, because they were thinking of using them to decorate the castle in the summer, and having his thoughts would mean everything.

Then when he left the gardens with a striking pastel yellow flower tucked into his breast pocket (“Oh Your Highness, you must take one with you, they compliment your eyes”), the royal dressmaker came around the corner, and quite literally dropped everything to sketch Jack at that exact moment for future reference. He had no idea how a flower changed things so drastically, but he still posed and smiled politely for them regardless.

It was exhausting. Although, the reasoning was simple enough: there were only two people in their royal family. Queen Medda Larkin, and Prince Jack Larkin. The queen had a lot more duties and a much busier schedule than the prince, so it was just easier.

Jack was already feeling soreness in his bones by the time he was seated for breakfast, groaning as his body hit the chair. For a chair with a cushion of velvet, you’d think it would be a lot comfier.

The long dining table meant for the royal family’s meals—they had several dining rooms for different purposes—was already set by the time he arrived, only lacking the actual food. Jack could feel David’s presence behind him and corrected his posture before he could say anything about it.

Two minutes passed before Jack was joined for the meal by his mother. Her arrival was able to be heard and seen a minute away, due to the fact that she was practically always flanked by at least two guards and her lady-in-waiting. The doors to the royal family dining hall opened, and in stepped Queen Medda with all the poise in the world. When her eyes met Jack’s, however, a smile was quick to spread across her face that dared to be a little crooked. She made her way to the other end of the table and was properly seated by having her chair pulled out for her.

Her lady-in-waiting took out the chair and scooched it in a tad when she was seated, and she was a face that Jack recognized fondly. He flashed her—Sarah—a quick grin with his tongue out far enough that only she would notice, knowing she wouldn’t dare do it back to him in front of all these people. Of course, he was right, and she simply smiled courteously back, tilting her head as a substitute for punching him in the shoulder.

“Good morning, Jackie,” Medda’s voice commanded all of Jack’s attention instantly. He looked over at her and smiled yet again at his mother.

“G’Morning, Mama,” Jack said. “Did you sleep well? I’m glad you could make it for breakfast.”

The kitchen staff moved around them, serving plates of steaming food as they spoke. “I slept as well as I could, but I was up late. And you know I always do my best to have this meal with you.”

“I know, I know,” Jack raised his hands defensively. He put a deviled egg on his plate. “You’re a busy woman, Mama, I get it. I just miss you throughout the day.”

“I do too, Jack. That’s why I try so hard to squeeze these meals in,” She gives him a warm and reassuring look before grabbing some food herself, electing to put a piece of toast and perfectly grilled sausages on her plate.

Jack was about to thank her, but a tap on his shoulder stopped the words from coming out. He didn’t even turn around, but instead internally groaned and moved his hand away from the fork he was reaching for. This was a regular thing—Jack’s valet and Medda’s lady-in-waiting stood behind each of them for the duration of any meal (it was definitely unsettling at first, but he got used to it), with the supposed reason being to prevent any emergencies (what emergency could happen at breakfast? Honestly, it was ridiculous.).

By then Jack had put two golden waffles on his plate, and was about to dig in before the aforementioned tap on the shoulder. It happened so often it barely phased him, just annoyed him beyond belief. He would reach for a fork or spoon, a knife or bowl, then receive a light or harsh touch on the shoulder depending on how far off he was and how many times he had already been reminded that that’s the salad fork, not the fish fork, or, use your dessert spoon, not the soup spoon.

He reached for the next fork beside the one he initially went for. Tap.

The next one. Tap tap.

The next one. Tap tap tap.

It took incredible restraint to not roll his eyes into the back of his head as Jack picked up the final fork in the lineup of silverware and was finally able to eat.

But remembering that David was behind him did remind Jack of something else. “Mama? Davidbtold me this morning that you have something important to tell me?”

Medda’s face lit up. “Oh! I do, indeed I do," A brief pause as she gathered her thoughts. "Jack, you know that one day you’re going to become king, right?”

Oh, fantastic. It was another one of these talks. He fought the urge to slam his head into the scrambled eggs.

“Yes, Mama. I’m being trained now for that future and will lead the kingdom with grace, humility and fairness.” Jack used the words repeated at all of their coronations, though there was a noticeable dullness to his voice. Over Medda’s shoulder, Sarah bit back a giggle. He shot her a hard glare.

“I know, and you’re doing a wonderful job lately. This isn’t one of those talks, I promise,” Medda said, as if reading his mind. Jack chuckled at how easy his mother could read him. “I’ve just been thinking lately. You know I’ve been ruling for a long time since your father has... left, and you’re the only heir to the throne.”

Ouch. Jack almost wished it was one of those talks instead about how he must lead the kingdom with patience and wisdom and that he should get more serious about it, because it will come sooner than he thinks. He didn’t like to think about Papa often. It was something he was able to shove into the deepest and darkest corners of his mind, into the very bottom of the steel chest, but even hearing mentions of him stung like a fresh papercut.

Jack worried his bottom lip. “Yeah. What about it?” He prayed she didn’t take offence to the sudden edge in his voice.

“Well, I’ve been in contact with King Joseph recently, and we have come to an agreement,” Medda had seemingly abandoned the food on her plate, hands folded neatly in her lap and nowhere near the half finished toast and sausage.

The mention of King Joseph struck a chord within Jack, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. Their royal family was the opposite of theirs. They had a king and a princess—Princess Katherine and King Joseph Pulitzer. He was good friends with Katherine, as she was the only monarch who didn’t look at him like he had three heads when he expressed his distaste for the royal life, and the only person other than Medda he would willingly be around at any formal events. Alas, King Pulitzer… that was a different story. A bad story.

A mix of good and bad thoughts swirled in Jack’s mind. He absent-mindedly chewed on a corner of his waffle. “An agreement?”

“You and Princess Katherine are to be betrothed!”

A beat. “Betrothed?”

“You’re getting married!”

Jack choked on his waffle.

David immediately sprung into action, wrapping his arms around Jack’s rib cage and forcing his fists inwards, repeating until the bite was dispelled onto his plate. Well, that answered his question on what kind of emergency could happen at breakfast. The entire room gasped, and it wasn’t clear if it was from the prince choking, the marriage announcement, or both.

When Jack’s vision stopped swimming, he looked over to his mother and felt horrible seeing her distressed expression. “I’m fine, Mama, I'm fine. But—” He paused to cough and take a sip of water to soothe his throat. “Married? I’m getting married?!”

Medda’s expression was just short of sheepish as she nodded. “Well, King Pulitzer and I have been conversing lately through letters and meetings, and we decided it would be the optimal decision. Both of you are the sole heirs to the throne, so it would solve the problem of having to rule alone. Not only that, but forming this union would combine the wealth, power, and area of our two kingdoms. They are the third largest kingdom in the country, dear.”

Jack’s brain felt like it was footballed into a lava pit. “...I’m getting married?”

“Yes, Jack, you’re getting married. We’re having our first meeting tomorrow afternoon, His Majesty and Her Highness are coming here just for it.”

A forlorn expression was splayed across his face, one he didn’t even attempt to hide from the castle staff that he knew for a fact were all staring directly at him. He sat back in his chair, food on his plate long forgotten. David didn’t even bother to remind him of his posture, for he was just as shocked.

“To Katherine Pulitzer?” Jack managed to croak out after a long minute of silence. Medda hummed in response. If he was closer to the table, he probably would have dropped his head into the cheese plate. He wanted to wail and ask why, why on earth would she ever agree to that, but she had technically already answered that question. He just liked to be dramatic sometimes.

“I know it’s sudden, sweetheart, but we’ll discuss it further in the meeting tomorrow. It will be King Pulitzer and I working out the finer details, so all you’ll have to worry about is the smaller things. Like decorations! Won’t that be fun?” Medda smiled over at him. It was painfully obvious she was trying to lighten the mood, and Jack appreciated it, but it had no effect.

So much was running through Jack’s head. Too much. It was only 8:30 AM and he already had a headache. Not wanting to cause a scene at breakfast, much less with staff in the room, Jack resigned to nodding with a slight sigh. “Okay, Mama.”

The rest of the meal was completed in silence. Medda finished her food, while Jack only poked at his with what was definitely the wrong fork. He got up to give her a hug before she left to begin her day, and he felt her embrace a little tighter than usual.

Not even a minute after she left, Jack left as well, not having the strength to finish his meal. He noticed David’s wary expression at how little he had eaten, but simply shrugged it off and half-heartedly muttered something about getting a snack from the kitchen after his horsemanship lessons.

The fact that such a huge decision was made for him, for his future, without him having a say or even knowing about it made Jack feel queasy.

And though he was able to mask his true emotions fairly well during his duties that day, he wasn’t sure if it would be the same case for the meeting tomorrow.

Chapter Text

“You think you can beat me, Racer!?” Jack bellowed over the raging wind, giving the man beside him a challenging glare.

The man in question—Race—smirked, returning the look with one of his own. “I don’t think I can. I know I can!” He blew a raspberry at the prince.

Jack gasped in faux-offence. “You did not just do that. You are going down!”

“In history, maybe! Eat my dust, Kelly!” Race declared loudly. With that, he gripped the reins of his horse tighter and bounced them so she went faster, passing Jack easily. “Hyah!”

Not about to lose, Jack copied the action, and his own stallion sped up so he was a mere inch behind Race and his mare. He had to hand it to the castle’s horsemen: they raised healthy horses that were extremely speedy. However, Race was just as good, if not better—his mother had raised horses her whole life alongside her grandmother who did the same, so he had generations worth of knowledge. Translation: he knew how to properly care for his horses so they went fast.

The only sound in the air aside from their playful banter was the constant, rapid clopping of hooves. Jack was leaning forward so his head was just behind his horse’s ears, and Race was raised from the saddle, opting for the air as a better seat. He scoffed at the funny looking position before determinedly forcing his stallion to go faster.

That morning, Jack had woken up early—the sun hadn’t even risen yet, only a mere sliver of honey on a grey canvas at that point—and slinked out of the castle undetected. Quietly, he tiptoed to the stables, saddled up a horse (not his own, or else the staff would know he left), and took off riding.

It was a regular thing he did. Sneaking out, that is. He desperately needed some sort of escape from the constant grit of his daily life or else he’d go crazy. The first day he did it was memorable on it’s own; one day he waited until nightfall, navigated his way past the guards and through the castle until he was out, and simply wandered. That night was many years ago, and coincidentally, was the night he met Race.

You don’t realize how creepy it is to be silently stalking in the bushes until someone pounces on you from behind and holds a dagger (with a dull blade, but still a dagger) to your throat, demanding to know what you’re doing on their private property.

Needless to say, ever since that night, Race and Jack have been practically inseparable. The only reason they were ever apart was that Jack was a prince and actually needed to return to the castle eventually. Although, the times the two did spend together were memorable as they spent it on adventures and doing wild, extremely un-prince-like activities. For example, at that moment, they were horse racing.

Well, at first they were just riding. Race was the only one of his town friends awake when Jack rode up to his part of the village, which was a bit disconnected from the rest—meant for the poorer folks. They both needed an escape that day, so Race brought out his horse and off they went.

It didn’t turn into racing until Jack mentioned how the new horses at the castle that year were so, so fast, probably faster than any horse he’d ever seen. Which in all honesty, wasn’t a lie. But of course, Race saw that as a challenge, and off they went.

The sound of Race yelling broke Jack from his musings. “Woah! Slow down, girl! Jack, slow down!”

Jack pulled back on the reins of his horse, pressing his feet hard into the stirrups. Just in time, as the strong stallion scuffled to a stop just in front of a large tree trunk that obstructed the path they were racing on. The sudden halt made Jack violently lurch forward, but his hold on the reins saved him from going flying. From his high position, he could see that the log wasn’t just long, but thick.

Race dismounted his mare, keeping her reins tight in his hands. He experimentally pushed his foot against the log, the only result being a slight sway.

“Something tells me that this ain’t moving one bit,” Jack voiced both their thoughts out loud.

Race nodded. “Nope. Not an inch. Hey, you mind reporting this over to them officials at’cha castle? I don’t want me and Delilah’s riding path blocked.” Jack scoffed as he stepped off his horse.

“Yeah, and say what? I was out horse racing with one of my subjects when I definitely wasn’t supposed to and discovered a huge, fallen tree trunk in a backroad that I almost got vaulted over?”

“Somethin’ like that, yea,” Race’s expression was nothing short of snarky, and failed to conceal a snort at Jack’s unamused face. He leaned against the side of Delilah, his mare with a coat the colour of sand, and snagged a cigar out of one of the saddlebags. As he lit it with a match and inserted the tip into his mouth, he spoke again. “So, Jackie boy, I’s think because I reached the trunk first and didn’t almost get catapulted over, I won.”

“Pft— Cha— What?!” Jack scoffed. “That was never discussed!”

“Uh, duh, I communicated it to yous telepathically, didn’t ya’ get it?” He cocked an eyebrow, biting down on the end of his cigar. “First person to reach the ginormous fallen tree in the middle of a common walking path for our part of the village because this kingdom don’t give a shit about the poor areas, wins.”

Jack definitely didn’t miss the venom in Race’s voice and winced at it. However, he didn’t say anything back, because he wasn’t all that wrong. While Jack undoubtedly cared for all his subjects (he didn’t even like using that word), rich or poor, the castle staff and various councils definitely did not share the sentiment. Whenever he mentioned anything about the needs of the citizens, especially the less fortunate folk, the staff gave him a pitiful smile and an empty promise of fixing whatever the issue was. Besides, his mother was the one with that kind of power.

So instead, Jack changed the topic. “Well, hey, Delilah was fast today. Faster than the wind!”

Jack picked the right thing to say, as Race’s expression immediately brightened at the mention of his prized horse. “Of course she was! My baby girl is always the best horse around. Aren’t you, Deli-ly, aren’t you? Oh, yes you are!” His speech devolved into high-pitched baby talk, and he cupped Delilah’s muzzle and jaw with his calloused hands. The laugh Jack let out was teasing, but affectionate.

“Certainly gave this horse 'ere and my loudmouth a run for our money.” Jack looked over his shoulder at his horse, a tall and strong stallion named Thunder with hair and a coat darker than night. Thunder flicked his tail at him.

“Course we did, Delilah don't mess around.” Race gave one last nuzzle to his beloved mare before directing his attention to Thunder. He stared at him with inquisitive eyes, his right eyebrow slowly rising up his forehead. After a moment, he walked up to and inspected him in a very hands-on manner. Finally came his judgement, in a voice so judgemental it nearly made Jack laugh: “Christ, what are them castle-folk feeding these here horses? Darlin’ is more malnourished than our oldest during the winter!”

Jack knew Race didn’t expect an actual answer, too caught up in his own world to hear or care, so he simply shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t watch the stablehands.”

“Poor boy, he’s probably starving,” It was clear Race was six feet deep in a horse bout, and Jack had learned to just let them pass, so he stepped to the side. “What an angel, I’m so sorry. I’ll get you some good food, baby.”

The Prince watched as he quickly shuffled over to Delilah’s saddlebag, rummaged through it and pulled out a bag of oats that he had no doubt was homegrown. He offered a handful to the stallion, of which was accepted. Jack gagged when horse tongue touched Race’s hand, and made a mental note to not touch his hand until he knew it was washed.

“Here, lead him over here,” Race pointed to a direction past the trees, grabbed Delilah’s reins and walked over to a creek Jack hadn’t even noticed was there. He obeyed, and once presented the water, Thunder gladly leaned down and lapped it up, Delilah following suit. Jack sighed and fell to the ground, sitting on the edge with his feet dangling just millimetres above the water. “Seriously, tell whoever’s in charge of the horses to put more fibre in their diet. Baby boy is way too thin for his age!” Was Race’s final statement before copying Jack and collapsing, lying flat on his back.

Jack looked over at Race with an amused expression, lips tugged up. “You think they’d listen to me?”

He covered his eyes with a hand. “Excuse me, Your Highness, for thinkin’ that the people who serve you would listen to you. Ain’t that theys job? To obey you?”

“I know nothing about the care of horses, Racer. I just know how to ride them, and how to handle them if they get out of control. There is no way they’d take me seriously,” Jack rolled his eyes. “‘Sides, didn’t ya’ hear the news? I’m no longer a bachelor. Everyone’s too focused on the wedding to give a damn about the horse’s diet.”

“Wedding?” Race spoke the word like it was foreign.

“Tch, you didn’t hear? I’m getting married to Katherine Pulitzer.”

“As in Princess Katherine Pulitzer? Daughter of King Joseph Pulitzer?”

“The one and only. S’posed to be good for us, combining our wealth and all. But I don’t like it one bit.”

Race rolled over so he was on his side facing Jack, head resting in a hand. “Jack Kelly, a prince who sneaks out to race horses with a poor peasant, opposin’ a royally arranged marriage? Would’a never thunk.”

“Shut up,” Jack shoved Race without looking at him, causing his aim to be incredibly sloppy and nowhere near his target. He chose to ignore the snickering that followed. “It just feels like this is gonna change things, you know? Mama said it’s gonna be her and Pulitzer working out most things, so who knows what else is going to be decided for me without even having a say. It’s like, do I not have control over my own future anymore?”

Surprisingly, Race nodded, his face turning thoughtful. He liked that about him, the way he could turn from cocky to genuine in a split moment made it easy to befriend him despite their huge social class difference. A silence followed, and Jack stared out on the creek solemnly, the sound of slurping horses being his coming of age background music.

Eventually Race speaks, removing the cigar from his mouth as he does. “Well more things will prob'ly be done without your say-so, because you’s a fancy prince and all. They probably think what they’re doing is best, and that someone high up like you won’t be bothered to think twice. Yea, you may not be able to make some decisions, like gettin’ married. And that sucks. But you can control what you do with those decisions. You know what I mean? Like, choosing what to do next.”

Jack considers his words. The following silence was comfortable, not strained, and the Prince released a long breath as he lay down to join Race on the ground. Race absentmindedly stroked Delilah’s legs as he stared up at the sky, the first clouds of the morning beginning to form.

“Race? Even if I get married, we can still do stuff like this, right?”

“O’course, Jackie. I don’t care if yous get married ten times, you better still make time for me to kick your ass in these games.”

“Shut up. I’ll win next time.”

“Doubt it.”

No more was said between them, as the morning sky that was blooming with colour became much more interesting. Rich oranges and yellows boldly streaked across, meeting and intertwining with wispy off-white clouds. The horses sat down as well, resting on their legs and lowering their heads.

It was peaceful. Honestly, Jack couldn’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed. He felt like he could stay out here all morning, all day even. His mind started to fall hazy, so with the rising sun providing a serene ambience, Jack closed his eyes.

Suddenly: “Prince Jack!”

The abruptness of the voice makes all four on the riverbank startle, each with varying degrees of surprise. Race, who never fully let his guard down, only flinched a bit, while Jack nearly fell into the creek. When he hastily looked over his shoulder to see who called for him, he’s incredibly thankful he didn’t completely fall in; David.

David rode up on a horse of his own, and Jack could tell from his expression alone that he has been searching for him for a while—an awkward but guilt-inducing cross between desperation and frustration. He can feel Race looking at him, and didn’t need to turn to know it was the equivalent of Oh, Shit.

When Jack spoke up, his tone was a lot more embarrassed than what he intended for it to be. “Heeey, Davey!”

Just as regular as it was for Jack to sneak out of the castle, it was regular for David to come searching for him. Every single time. If Jack couldn’t be found, the staff went to David, asking where he was, and bad things happened when the crowned Prince couldn't be found. In fact, he’s come after him so many times, he’s memorized the places he frequents the most and saves time by checking them first. However, Jack was far away from any of his usual places this time, which he was then realizing might be a bad thing.

Is it just Jack, or are David’s hands shaking as they hold his horse’s reins? Jack almost felt bad. He half-heartedly rises from the ground, dusting off his pants with his fingertips. Race mumbled a greeting to David that was paired with a two-fingered forehead salute, but either he didn’t hear it or he did and didn’t acknowledge it.

David closed his eyes and took in a breath through his nose that made his shoulders rise. Finally, with a tone that was dripping with exasperation came, “Your Highness, I’ve been searching everywhere for you.”

“And I am so glad, you’re my knight on a white horse, Dave,” Jack shot back with a wink, making a point to pet the white stallion he’s on. Success came in the form of a barely there flush spreading on David’s cheeks, but there was also the way he sighed, and how he hears Race muttering how all of them castle horses must be underfed. He clears his throat. “I know you must have missed me so much. Your dedication is flattering, really.”

That earned a snort from Race, and David looks away from Jack at the rising sun. Okay, tough crowd. He decided to redirect. “So tell me, Davey,” Jack absentmindedly played with the reins of the horse he’s on. “What ever so important duties do I have today that you came to fetch me for?”

“None immediately this morning. But at one o’clock sharp, you and Her Majesty have a meeting with King Joseph and Princess Katherine. Don’t you remember?”

Realization hit Jack like a raging bull. He groaned. “Right. That.” A pause. “Say, Dave, you are looking extra wonderful this morning. You think I can stay—”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pleaaaase?”

David sighed. “No, Your Highness. I’m not coming back out here later. Come on.”

Jack gave a defeated huff that turned into a grunt as he mounted Thunder again. After giving a goodbye wave to Race, he maneuvered his horse into a trot. He felt a cold pang reverberate in his chest as he watched Race return the wave and go back to basking in the morning sun; a feeling he desperately tried to pretend wasn’t jealousy.

The ride home to the castle was silent, and unlike before, Jack couldn't really place it as comfortable or tense. He meant to ask, but when they arrived back at the castle, staff pulled him off before he could say anything. With every minute that passed, a knot of dread in his stomach grew, and forced it away at lunch by eating until he was full.

It couldn’t be that bad. Perhaps he was overthinking it.

———

Jack was definitely not overthinking it. It was just as awful as he thought it would be.

The meeting was held in the smallest of the castle’s several meeting rooms, but the “smallest” was still a huge size that intimidated him from the get-go. A long and thin mahogany table stretched the length of the room, fancy velvet and dark oak chairs spaced evenly apart.

Jack and Medda arrived first, valet and lady-in-waiting-less, dressed in finer, cleaner clothes than usual and seated at one of the rounded ends of the table. Medda sat at the head, with Jack on the very first seat to her left. From there, they waited patiently.

Their guests arrived about five minutes later, surrounded by guards and various other staff from their own kingdom, making their entrance unmistakable. The former royals rose to greet them, and each noble gave a half bow. This was the first time Jack had seen either since a Christmas ball several months prior, and both had seemingly matured since.

Princess Katherine was a resplendent vision, dressed in a violet dress with bell sleeves, pale yellow accents decorating the skirt and arms. A silver tiara with multiple shining gems rested upon her head over copper coloured curls that fell freely to her shoulders. It didn’t take much to recognize that she was certainly beautiful, and the refined elegance in every movement she made only added to her enchanting aura.

Then, there was King Joseph, who had an equally enchanting aura—but the difference was that while Katherine’s felt like a dreamy spell, his felt like a dizzying hex. He was dressed finely in a crisp jet black suit, the silver embroidery on it making him look like a million dollars, and a similarly decorated cape fell to his ankles. A tall, golden crown thats metal weaved into intricate patterns and held priceless jewels sat on his head, overtop his dark champagne blonde hair. Jack elected to ignore the grey hairs peeking from under the crown.

As soon as Joseph’s eyes flicked over to Jack and the two made eye contact, Jack felt sick. They didn’t have the best track record, per se; there was an incident at an event once that, ever since, has made the King constantly look at him like he insulted him and his entire bloodline to his face. It’s a long story, but it involves miscommunication and a barrel of cold water. Definitely not Jack’s proudest moment.

Finally, when all of the monarchs took their seats at their respective ends of the table, Medda was the first to speak. “Good afternoon, Your Majesty, Your Highness. It’s wonderful to see you.”

“It’s wonderful to be here, Queen Medda,” Joseph smiled kindly. Something about the way he spoke irked Jack, but he kept his mouth shut. “I’m so glad that you agreed to my proposal of Katherine and Jack’s marriage.”

So it was his idea? Jack cursed mentally. Who was he kidding, of course it was. Mama would never think of such a horrible idea. Perhaps he was biased, but he had also heard from some commoner friends of his that Joseph didn’t have the greatest reputation among his citizens. It only made sense.

“But of course. It’s in our best interests to combine our resources, as then together we will be the second biggest and wealthiest kingdom in the country.” Medda said.

“Exactly. It’s… genius,” Joseph’s tone was cool and calculated, as expected of a king. It made Jack want to punch him in the face. As if reading his mind, his eyes moved to inspect Jack for a moment, which made him swallow nervously and sit up straighter. To his surprise, the king addressed him. “Prince Jack, aren’t you thrilled for this opportunity?”

No, Jack almost answered in reflex, absolutely not, are you mad? He had to bite down on his tongue to keep the words from escaping his throat. All three were looking at him expectantly, so he smiled his perfect prince smile and nodded. “Of course. Anything to improve the welfare of our kingdoms.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Medda smile proudly at his answer, which almost made it all worth it. For Joseph it took a moment—and Jack picked up on that hesitation—before he grinned, and when he did, it was slow and coy. “Wise words. You’ve raised a fine young man, Miss Medda. Katherine, you’re just as excited, aren’t you darling?” Hearing her name made Katherine blink suddenly, as if she was lost in a trance. Nobody else noticed though, as she recovered with grace.

“But of course,” Katherine gave an alluring smile. “The interests of my kingdom always come first, and this will enhance it immensely. I am overjoyed to be doing this.”

Talk about a model answer.

Joseph’s smile remained triumphant. “Excellent. I’m happy you two are looking forward to it so greatly,” His eyes returned to Medda, “So, Queen Medda, how do you suppose we effectively combine our resources in a way that will prove longevity?”

Then, several minutes of talking between Medda and Joseph passed that covered the bare basics of just how they’ll go about everything, how they’ll combine their land and money. Their conversation was punctuated with frequent “Mhm,”s, and “I see." There were also many “Yes, but”s, which Jack knew was the polite way for royals to disagree with each other without affronting the other and causing a civil war. He pretended he was coughing to stifle a laugh.

Just as Jack was about to tune out and act like he was paying his utmost attention (a craft he had mastered through years of trial and error), his name was brought up.

“Jack, Princess Katherine,” Medda rose from her seat, the skirt of her basil green gown sweeping in circles. Joseph did the same. “I’m going to give King Joseph here a look around so we can better assess the situation and come to more efficient conclusions. You two stay here, talk! Decide what decorations you’ll want for the ceremony, okay?” Though it ended in question, she left no room for response, as almost immediately after that she left the meeting room with Joseph in tow. Then, Jack and Katherine were alone.

It was surprising they were alone. Jack did a double-take around the room, and there were shockingly no staff in sight, not even guards. He presumed there were some guards outside the doors just in case, as he learned the hard way that there is always at least one guard near at all times. There weren't any close enough to hear them, though. His eyes went over to Katherine, only to see she was already looking at him. When they made eye contact, she cracked a lazy half smile.

“So, Jack,” She said simply. Jack gave a short laugh.

“So, Katherine,” He copied. A bit of silence passed before he cleared his throat. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that neither of us are actually interested in the other romantically, and are being forced into this marriage because our parents think it’s the optimal decision.”

Katherine wasted no time replying. “Yup. No offence Jack, but you are so not my type.”

Jack barked a laugh that immediately made him slap a hand over his mouth, conscious of any staff lingering outside the doors. They would definitely hear that. “None taken. I’m just glad the feeling is mutual.”

The two had met before on multiple occasions, at various banquets, parties and balls. They clicked easily, Katherine being the only person to match Jack’s sharp tongue, and stayed close during gatherings. More than once Katherine has gone to dance with Jack to avoid an old duke asking for one, and Jack has stayed close to Katherine when naive princesses would make heart-eyes at him.

“Tell me, Jack. What colour theme should we have for our wedding?” Katherine asked in a grand voice, giggling at Jack’s scoff that followed.

“I dunno. Personally, I was thinking maybe brown and… green. You know, real classy colours.”

“How lovely, I was thinking the same thing. And in the reception, the only menu should be only apples. They’re my favourite fruit.”

“Anything for the bride,” Jack clicked his tongue and winked, laughing when she glared at him. “What! I’m saying that as the groom, I must serve my bride—”

“You’re awfully close to a beating, Kelly.”

“Now, now, don’t bring out the, ‘Kelly’, Kath. Not in the castle. My point is—”

“I will walk across this room and slap you.”

“Try it.”

She did try, actually—she arose from her seat, hand on the table as leverage. Alas, she only took a single step before there were several light knocks at the door. Both the prince and princesses' heads twisted to look at lightning speed, Katherine sitting back down and crossing her leg neatly. Yet, as the door opened and closed behind the new visitor, it wasn’t at all who they expected. It was David, with Sarah close behind.

Jack’s face twisted into something suave. “Davey! You must miss me a whole lot to come running into my meetings. Don’t worry, I missed you too.”

It hadn’t even been ten seconds since he entered the room, but David found himself blushing a light red that he tried to hide with his hand. Sarah was next to speak. “Don’t let it get to your big head, Jack. We were sent here for damage control.”

Jack blinked. Katherine choked on a laugh. “Damage control?” He asked incredulously.

“Her Majesty walked by us in the hall, and requested we come here to keep an eye on things,” David jumped in, putting his arm in front of Sarah and glaring at her.

The way he narrowed his eyes at her made Jack’s grin widen. Despite being siblings, Sarah and David were near opposites. Sarah was friendly with him and wasn’t afraid to tell him exactly what she thought (provided they were alone and she wouldn’t get fired immediately), while David was prim and proper, using the title Your Highness ninety nine percent of the time.

The Jacobs family had been working for their royal family for generations; and currently, there were three of them. Sarah, David, and a younger brother that Jack didn’t meet often but loved to play with when they did, named Les, of whom was a knight in training.

“My own mother doesn’t trust me to peacefully talk with another royal alone?” Jack put a hand on his forehead for dramatics. “Ouch. I’m wounded.”

“It’s not that—”

“It’s exactly that.”

David sighed defeatedly, not having the strength to argue with his sister. Deciding to redirect, he turned and bowed to Katherine, who was silently watching the exchange. “Greetings, Your Highness Katherine. I’m David Jacobs, Prince Jack’s personal valet, and this is Sarah Jacobs, Queen Medda’s lady-in-waiting.” When mentioned, Sarah curtsied, much to her brother’s relief.

Katherine’s eyes lingered on Sarah for a fleeting moment (a moment that Jack did not miss either, and recorded mentally) before she looked at both of them and nodded politely. “It’s great to meet you both. I sense we’ll see each other often in the future.”

For the next ten to twenty minutes, the group discussed the wedding in small bits and pieces, seemingly too distracted and exhausted for a lengthy talk. After what felt like forever to Jack, Medda and Joseph returned, seemingly satisfied with whatever they did on their perusal of the castle.

“Oh, it’s great to see everyone getting along,” Medda nodded to Sarah and David as she entered the room, both bowing low in greeting and not rising until both she and Joseph had passed them. “Princess Katherine and Jack, is everything going smoothly? No issues?”

The two exchanged a brief, heavy glance.

Jack lied through his teeth. “Nope. No issues at all, Mama. Everything’s perfect.”

“Well then, on that note,” Joseph declared in a loud voice he probably used for speeches. “Katherine and I must be going. I hate to cut things short, but I have a meeting with some men later this afternoon that I cannot miss.” His gaze rested on Jack for a few seconds too long, and it made him feel ill. He shoved that feeling to the side and did yet another half bow as a farewell, as did Medda.

“We look forward to seeing you again. May your horses be swift and careful,” Medda waved a regal queen’s wave. Jack decided to nod, not trusting his throat enough to speak at the moment.

The King and Princess made their exit, which left the Queen and Prince to their own schedule. While Medda got to it immediately, Jack hesitated, walking slowly in the hallways, legs filled with lead.

Though he joked about it at the time, he really was feeling incredibly uneasy about his future being out of his control. First a wedding, and who knew what was next. A nagging voice in the back of Jack’s mind fed him negative thoughts that made him drag his feet, and didn’t even pay attention to David telling him to walk properly.

His future was in the palms of King Joseph Pulitzer, and that thought alone was enough to make him need to rush to the bathroom.

Chapter Text

“Honestly, Dave, how do you do it?”

“Oh, it’s really nothing, Your Highness.”

“Don’t be so humble. You’re way too knowledgeable in that there brain of yours for that.”

“Thank you, but really, it’s nothing—” All coherent thoughts in David’s brain came to a screeching halt and his words died on his tongue as Jack, who was standing behind him, leaned up against him, left arm folded flat on his shoulder. He became acutely aware of just how close Jack was, the way his relaxed hand ghosted his collarbone in what could be a casual way but also might mean more and not knowing drove David mad.

He scrunched his eyes shut and swatted away bizarre thoughts in his mind, just barely making out Jack saying something about how he should accept compliments more. It’s not meant to be more, David chided himself mentally, he’s not interested, and you're definitely not interested either.

“Right, Davey?” Jack finished his thought, and David snapped to reality, realizing he didn’t catch a word of what he said. When he didn’t respond, the prince leaned forward a tad to get a better look at his face. “Hello? Anybody home?”

David cleared his throat and stepped away from Jack’s touch. “Of course, Your Highness. Now as for your outfit today, here’s what I was thinking—”

He proceeded to explain how Jack would have to wear semi-formal clothes, as townspeople were coming in to voice their requests and concerns the prince and queen, however not too much so, as later that day he had an appointment with the royal dressmakers to be measured and try on various wedding suit prototypes. Wearing fanciful clothes in such a situation would risk wrinkles and be a waste of an outfit. Something in the back of his mind nagged that he was just trying to distract himself, but he did what he did best and ignored it.

“And that's why I think we should go with,” David turned to the huge rack of clothes in Jack’s closet, filled end to end with countless suits and tunics and slacks. After a split second of debation, he picked out a navy blue overcoat with golden detailing on the pockets, collar and buttons, and fell to the knees in the back. With that, he chose a pair of white trousers and black boots. “This.”

Jack silently looked at the clothing held on racks balanced in David’s hands with a raised eyebrow. He did it for long enough for David to falter, his shoulders drooping. “Do you— Do you not like it?”

“No, I don’t.”

Ouch. “I-I’m terribly sorry, Your Highness. I can pick another outfit out for you, or maybe—”

Jack’s laughter interrupted him. “I’m kidding, Davey, I love it. You’ve really got to stop being so hard on yourself. You have a good eye for these kinds of things.”

“Oh. Oh! Thank goodness, I was worried—”

“And you know, speaking of your eyes,” Jack took the clothing from David, slowly shifting to stand in front of him. “They are stunning, you know that? They’re such a unique shade of blue, like crystals.”

Here comes the blush. Control it, idiot. “Thank you, Prince Jack.”

“Really, I mean it. And you look at me with those pretty eyes so often, I’m flattered.”

“Thank you.”

“Also—”

Before Jack could say anything else and make his face anymore red, David nodded and excused himself. “Get dressed, I’ll meet you outside, Your Highness!”

The feeling of Jack’s stare on his back was strong as he left, and he still felt sizzling remnants of the burning gaze after closing the wardrobe door behind him. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the grand vanity, and insisted to himself that his red cheeks were just because of the flattering compliments, and that anybody would flush at receiving them.

Plus, Jack was a serial complimenter. He offered endless praise to his mother for one; typically giving at least three per conversation. Then there were his friends, who David would meet briefly when going to fetch him. Nearly every single time, he overheard Jack complimenting something they had done or was doing, either before he makes himself noticed or as they leave. Even the castle staff received their fair share of Jack compliments, for crying out loud. He was just being nice. Like he did with everybody.

Several minutes passed before Jack exited his closet, dressed in the selected outfit. Once within distance, David reached his hand out and messed with his hair until it was positioned properly. When he was satisfied with the outcome, he spoke. “So, Your Highness. First you have breakfast, then citizens will come in to ask their requests and such to you and Her Majesty in the throne room. That’s followed by a measuring and fitting appointment, and then you need to overlook and approve some goods we will be sending overseas.”

Needless to say, Jack didn’t look entirely thrilled at his packed day. “No big announcements at breakfast today? You know, don’t wanna choke this time.” He snorted amusedly.

“No big announcements at breakfast, Your Highness,” David allowed himself to laugh at the half-joke, and swallowed when Jack’s eyes easily flicked over to him. “Only after. With your subjects, that is.”

“Alright, fine,” Jack rolled his neck and cracked his knuckles. “Let’s get this over with. Lead the way, Davey.”

---

The castle’s throne room was nothing short of magnificent, fitting for any royal of any title. The walls were a creamy off white colour and embellished with gold patterns, similar to the tall and broad pillars widely spaced apart on the sides of the room. Lengthy windows illuminated the room with warm sunlight. A red carpet cut from velvet stretched from the room’s entrance and up onto the circular platform that two thrones were placed upon, elevated just over five feet from the ground with a series of steps leading up to them.

Medda’s throne was more elaborate than Jack’s, but both were equally remarkable. Both shared the same colour palette, having red satin cushions and golden legs and armrests—with the backs of them being a mix of both in sensible swirls and patterns. However, that’s where the similarities ended. The queen’s throne was larger and higher, and was just a few centimetres in front of Jack’s, a clear example of their titles’ importance; but he didn’t really mind.

His throne had been built when he was around five-years-old, and it took the builders close to a year to get all the intricate metal patterns on the backrest perfect. Although he seldomly had to sit on it at the time, the only occasion being for when important guests came around, young Jack would frequently sneak into the room when the guards were distracted and climb onto the fancy seat. When he sat on it back then, he felt like he was on top of the world and pretended to give orders to imaginary people with his chin held high.

Present Jack wondered why he was ever that eager.

It had been several hours of sitting in his throne at that point, listening to complaint after complaint, and it felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer and slammed it into the middle of his back. Though his spine was seconds away from dissipating, getting to see and listen to the citizens of his kingdom was one of the few things he was serious about in his day to day life; so he was able to paste on his professional smile and bear it.

“Thank you ever so much, Your Majesty, Your Highness,” A farmer who had their request for a loan to acquire more resources granted by both the royals bowed gratefully. “Your kindness is greatly appreciated.”

Medda nodded, keeping her grand crown in place. “You’re welcome. Should any new issues arise, don’t hesitate to come see us.”

With that, the farmer left, and only several people remained in the room. Jack was secretly relieved, because though he loved his people and providing for them, there was only so much he could take at a time.

Many kinds of citizens came in during royal hearings, but Jack had identified three major categories. First, there were those who were kind and gentle-spoken, and thanked the two of them profusely for simply speaking. They were a delight to talk to, and he enjoyed solving their problems. Then were those who balanced in the middle, who were considerate to the monarchs but still rightfully peeved at whatever issue they had come in to have heard and fixed. Sometimes their annoyance began to colour their voice, and it somewhat humoured Jack how quickly they would clear their throat and correct it.

Lastly were the ones who were downright rude, and didn’t give two damns that they could get arrested for making a wrong move in front of them. They were a royal pain, even for Jack, who had the best tolerance for annoying people that he knew. More than once he had witnessed one of these folks get forcefully removed by guards, and in one instance arrested after calling Medda a series of swearwords that made the entire room go dead quiet. If it weren’t for the crowd, he would have gone down there and personally kicked the guy to the curb himself—literally.

When the next person stormed up as close as he could get to the throne platform, expression thunderous, Jack knew this was someone who belonged in the final category, and prepared himself for a furor. What he didn’t expect, though, was for them to address him specifically. “Prince Jack!” They bellowed in a gravelly voice that turned heads. “I have some words for you!”

A guard at the floor level had to push the raging man back a few feet, and Jack was suddenly grateful for the security of the castle. He straightened his posture. “I’m ready to hear them.”

“Was it not you who gave the official sign off for the cattle herders to have two more acres of land?” They placed their hands on their hips, clearly well past frustrated.

“I did.”

“Well then because of you, all of my crops were ruined!” An accusing finger was pointed at the prince, shaking with unadulterated fury. “The land is next to my farm. Those crazy cattle went and had a stampede all over them! Now they’re ruined! I was only able to recover a basket and a half of food. Just what am I supposed to do now, Your Highness?”

Jack didn’t miss the seething way he spoke his title, and clenched his teeth together tightly. In all honesty, Jack was sleep deprived when he signed that agreement. His candle was burning out, and he haphazardly signed it off after seeing the words “cattle” and “more land.” He figured it wouldn’t hurt to give them more land to raise more cattle—but turns out, it did.

“I think—” Medda began, but was almost immediately cut off.

“No, Your Majesty, this isn’t your issue,” The angry subject nearly spat. The guards exchanged assessing glances. “It’s Prince Jack’s. If he is going to be king some day, and may God have mercy if so, he needs to learn how to clean up his own messes.”

That left both Jack and Medda stunned. The room fell quiet, everyone so obviously waiting on a response from Jack that it made his stomach flip. With how aggressive the man was, Jack could’ve easily just pointed at him and had the guards forcefully escort him without being questioned, avoiding the debacle entirely.

However, the way the man spoke sounded like a challenge, as if challenging his authority. Challenging his ability to do something right. And that made some strong feelings he couldn’t identify swirl deep in his gut.

He was never one to back down from a challenge, anyway.

Jack crossed his legs and spoke. “We’ll build a new fence for the cattle—”

“A new fence? Are you serious? They’ll stomp over it again! They already did once!” The pedestrian scoffed, but Jack simply held up a hand to silence them.

“This fence will be taller, more sturdy. The cattle fence has been needing an upgrade recently, anyways. We will also provide you with new seeds, soil, and any other resources you may need to recover your crop. If you plant them now, they’ll become ripe just in time for the harvesting season.” Jack spoke with conviction, refusing to let his voice waver even for a moment. “We’ll also put the fence a bit further in so the cattle doesn’t meddle with your crops, but to keep our deal with the cattle herders fair, we’ll expand on the width instead of the length. There’s metres of grassy land on either side that, with the right treatments, would be perfect for the cattle.”

The room went silent. Jack held his breath and prayed he said the right thing. His heartbeat was a drum beat, echoing a plea: please, please, please.

Finally: “You know, that’s not an awful idea.”

Jack masked the way his body folded in relief by shifting his position on the throne. “We’ll begin construction on the fence as soon as possible, and we can get the resources out in… two? Three days?” He glanced over his shoulder at David who stood behind him. David quickly scribbled something down on the scroll in his hands and nodded in affirmation.

The now satisfied citizen left after that. Jack watched them go, feeling his shoulders get a little lighter, only breaking the gaze when he felt a hand on his. He looked over and saw Medda looking at him with a proud smile that made her eyes small crescent shapes, bejewelled hand covering his. Something warm and fuzzy expanded across Jack’s heart. She gave his hand a quick squeeze before directing her attention to the final few people left.

Fifteen minutes passed in a blur, Jack just barely hearing complaints of how the well had gone dry and more requests for loans. It was only when he felt someone gently shaking his shoulder did his mind come crashing back to Earth.

“Your Highness?” It was David, who stopped shaking him when he knew he had his attention. “The royal hearing is over. You have a measurement and fitting now to attend.”

Jack blinked once, twice, three times. Then, he nodded, rose from the throne and followed David out of the throne room and down the twisting hallways to the royal dressmaker’s workshop. Their walk there was almost entirely in silence, no words being expressed until they were a hallway away.

“Amazing job out there, Your Highness. You spoke quite eloquently.” David looked over at Jack and offered a small smile.

Jack’s stomach flipped again, but it was different this time. When he remembered he was alone with David again, he widely grinned. “Thanks, Davey. Learned it from the greatest valet out there. Picked it up from spending so much time with ‘em.”

“Oh, um, thank you,” David was clearly caught off guard and looked away, shielding his face with the scroll he held. “Ah, look, we’re here. Let’s go.” He swiftly ushered the prince into the room before the chance to say anything else came up.

Upon walking in, Jack was immediately slapped in the face with the fact that he was getting married, as countless papers with roughly drawn silhouettes wearing various tuxedos and suits were pasted across the wall. Some were done in graphite, others charcoal, and a few in ink. On the desks were mounds of various fabrics, sewing wheels half-full and needles littering the area in clumps. No matter what medium was used or what fabrics lay around, it was like someone gripped Jack by the shoulders and forced him to face cold reality.

Before he took more than ten steps, several of the dressmakers swooped in and took him over to one of the many working stations. He stood on a slightly raised circular platform, only about a foot off the ground, as the staff feverishly rushed around him. Personally, he couldn’t make heads or tails of what they were doing in the slightest, but they seemed to work together in an organized frenzy. Some even stood to the side and spoke with David in hushed whispers, who would in turn nod and sometimes jot something down on his scroll. All Jack knew was to stand with his arms out and ignore the discomfort he got from the staff constantly pressing a measuring tape to every inch of his body.

After a while of measuring, the dressmakers began to break out the fabrics, holding small squares of silk up to his face with analytical gazes and draping lengths of satin over his arms. Shades of red, violet, yellow, and every other colour of the rainbow were splayed across the room in every fabric from cotton and wool to twill and chiffon.

Even David got in on it, picking up a cut of fabric the size of his hand that was coloured a fine oxford blue. He held it up to Jack from a small distance, eyes flicking back and forth, from the cloth to the prince. “I think this colour is good, it looks nice on you.”

Jack looked at the blue fabric with bored eyes. It looked exactly like one of the cuts he had already seen. “It is a nice colour,” He started, pausing to switch his eyes to David. “But I think it would look better on you. It brings out your eyes. You know, the dark blue with light blue combo.” He talked casually, his only reaction being a slight grin when David’s expression grew surprised and bashful. With a nod and utter of inaudible words, David stepped out of the way to let the staff do their thing, all in their own worlds and oblivious to their conversation.

The appointment then progressed into the fitting part, Jack being presented with three different outfits to try on, all various colours and fits. All the dressmakers insisted these were only their first attempts, and that if he has any feedback at all to tell them. So Jack excused himself to a seperate room to try on all the options.

Outfit number one was entirely white, the silver finework barely visible against the bright fabric but glistening in the right lighting. It was a fitted undershirt and pants underneath a long jacket where most of the aforementioned finework was, and it ended just above his knees. The staff spoke to each other in discreet whispers, eyes constantly moving between one another and the suit. Indeed it was nice, but a shame to have such divine details not seen.

Outfit number two had a more diverse colour palette, boasting a white lace shirt, a silk stock tie and a navy blue blazer, complex silver vines embroidered onto the lapels. The top was paired with matching navy blue bottoms, and it seemed to be a better choice than the previous. At least with this one you could see the detailing. David went to write brief descriptions of the options in a corner of his scroll, should it be needed later; it never hurt to be prepared.

Brief descriptions became a little bit more than just brief, and David became so absorbed in his writing that he didn’t notice Jack left to change into the third option and came back until the room erupted into tiny gasps, which made him look up bemusedly. It didn’t take long for his eyes to fall on Jack, and it suddenly felt like someone had hit him hard, right between the eyes.

The third outfit was wonderful. Other than the white undershirt, it was an all black ensemble, which included a vest that went over the undershirt, fitted pants and a blazer that just passed his hips in length. All the black fabric bore gorgeous golden embroidery (save for the sleeves of the blazer, but the cuffs and chest area in between were well decorated) that seemed to shine. Lastly, the final cherry on top was a long cape attached to his collar that just touched the floor. It was sheer and black with occasional swirls of gold, so it fit with the rest of the look.

David swallowed, and there was a sudden patch of dryness in his throat. Around him, the staff excitedly whisper-yelled to one another about how they knew this would be the one, rapidly doodling and marking on sheets of paper. Apparently it was a consensus that number three was the best.

Jack watched his onlookers with an entertained expression. “Davey,” He called out. The staff didn’t pay any mind, too distracted by their victory, but David hesitantly looked over and prayed his cheeks didn't betray him. “What do you think?”

You look amazing, he wanted to blurt out, but bit his tongue. Not the time, nor the place. David cleared his throat and cautiously picked his words before he spoke. “I think it looks lovely, Your Highness. The combination of black and gold looks good on you.” He controlled his breath, keeping it steady to keep a neutral expression.

“Thank you, thank you, I’m glad everyone seems to think that,” The side of his lip pulled up into a lazy smirk. His eyes darted side to side, thinking. Then: “I personally think it would look better on your bedroom floor, though.”

There went the control.

A violent and vibrant red blush was quick to bloom across David’s face, and he tried to hide it by turning to the side and burying his face into his scroll. The consequent laughter that escaped Jack was almost torturous, and he could’ve swore he felt himself flush even more. His expression matched a cherry red velvet square on a nearby desk almost exactly, and he was ready to wither away and never return.

Before Jack could say anything else, one of the dressmakers tapped him on the arm and asked him for any feedback on the clothes, pencil in hand. After a split moment of reluctance, he nodded and started to explain his thoughts to them, giving David a chance to back up numerous steps and finally breathe. He counted his lucky stars as he tried to rest his heartbeat.

So, yeah, other than a few hiccups, the measurement and fitting appointment went well.

The final event of the day for Jack was to approve of and finalize some goods Manhattan would be sending to kingdoms overseas. As they walked down the wide dock, shoes clunking against the sturdy wood, David scratched a quill against his scroll. “As I said earlier, Your Highness, we just need the final okay to send away these goods. Some of these kingdoms we haven’t traded with before, so we must bring forth our finest items.”

Around them were several docked ships, bustling with crew and full of crates. They stepped aboard one with it’s boarding ramp down, and as soon as Jack’s presence was noticed, the crew bowed low in greeting.

A burly man with a thick beard walked up to them. “Good evening, Your Highness. I’m Abel, the captain of this ship. We have the goods for you to view here, and because all ships will be carrying the same things, you only have to do it once. Wouldn't want to waste your time. Please, come.” He gestured out with his hand to a row of crates with their tops off so that anybody could get a good look, and Jack strolled up to them.

Like a shadow, Abel followed behind Jack, inspecting his face over his shoulder. Jack was used to keeping his expression neutral though, so he leisurely took his time examining the goods.

There were fine fur pelts, ranging from beavers to foxes in various warm colours like red, brown and orange. There were luxurious fabrics of all kinds, but silk seemed to be dominant among them. There were numerous wines. Red, pink, yellow and white, liquids swaying in their bottles in sync with the calm lapping water below. There were spices, foods, jewels, perfumes, leather and more.

It all seemed adequate to Jack, so after giving all the crates a final once-over, he looked back at Abel and nodded. “These all seem great. Thank you for sailing great distances to deliver these stocks.”

“Oh, thank you, Your Highness,” Abel breathed, seeming like if he didn’t get Jack’s approval he would’ve fallen apart at the seams. “It’s no issue, really. We’re glad to serve our kingdom.”

Abel bowed one final time to Jack, then hastily scurried off to talk to someone else on the crew. Jack turned to David, expecting him to be already prepared to guide him back to the castle and do whatever else, but blinked in surprise when he was instead folded over with a hand over his mouth.

Jack placed a hand on his shoulder. “Dave? What’s wrong?” A good-sized wave lapped at the ship’s hull, and David stumbled closer to Jack, who let out a casual laugh. “Are you finally falling for me?”

“No, no,” David was too focused on steadying his dizzy vision to pay attention to the flirt or how close they were. “Just seasick. Very, very seasick.”

That made Jack realize how the ship was indeed swaying a bit on the waters, back and forth. He was never the seasick type, so it didn’t even occur to him. His suave guise faltered, and put a supportive hand on David’s back as he led him off the ship. “You shouldn’t have come on then, Dave. Come on.”

When they were back on the dock and solid ground, David regained a bit of stability and was able to walk on his own. He closed his eyes, swallowed thickly, and began walking back to the castle, Jack in tow. “It’s my job to stay by your side whenever I can in case I’m needed or of emergencies, Your Highness.”

“Well consider me flattered, never knew you wanted to spend so much time with me.” Jack waggled his eyebrows teasingly, pleased to see the pale seasickness dissolve into a pale pink blush. He went to shoot another cheesy one-liner after a minute of silence, but was cut off by a voice from far away.

“Davey!” Both boys turned their heads to see a small figure bouncing over to them across the way, and both smiled earnestly.

When the figure caught up to them, Davey crouched down and gave them a hug. “Hey, Les.”

Les hugged his brother back. “Hi,” He turned to Jack and bowed a full ninety degrees, eyes on the grass at his feet. “Hello Prince Jack.”

“You know you don’t have to call me by no formalities, Les,” Jack playfully scoffed. “Don’t be like your brother, he’s a stick in the mud.”

“I am not a stick in the mud!” David protested. Les giggled. “How was knight training today?”

Suddenly Les’ glee stopped, as if somebody flicked a switch. His expression unexpectedly sombered. “Oh, it was okay, I guess.”

“Okay? You guess? What do you mean?”

“I just,” He paused, as if deciding what words to use. “It wasn’t a good day. I don’t know if I was distracted or what, but I got beat in almost every practice battle. The trainer yelled at me that if we were on an actual battlefield, I would’ve been dead ten times over.”

David’s heart softened, and he gently smoothed a hand through his brother’s hair. “Oh, Les…”

While David and Sarah were personal servants to the royals directly, Les, the youngest of the three Jacobs, was a knight in training. He spent his days in the knight’s quarters of the castle, practicing swordsmanship, horsemanship, archery, etiquette, and more, from morning to eve. Knights-in-training were officially knighted in classes when they were eighteen years old—sometimes a few years earlier if they were exceptionally good—in a ceremony that occured once every year by Medda and Jack themselves. Considering Les was only eleven, he still had a ways to go, but failing never made anyone feel good.

Jack kneeled down to look Les in the eyes, which surprised both the brothers, as a noble (much less a prince) never matched anyone’s height—it was always the other way around. “Les, you are an amazing knight-in-training. You can’t let a single day of failure tarnish a streak of success, you hear me? Learn from your mistakes, and improve on them instead of letting them eat at you.”

“Really? You think I’m an amazing knight-in-training?” Les’ expression was a mix of shock and bewilderment. It was adorable. While David was used to dealing with Jack on the daily, Les wasn't, meaning the impact of his status still had great effect.

“I know you’re an amazing knight-in-training. And whether I knight you as a prince or as a king, I know you’ll do a wonderful job protecting me and my kingdom.”

Les smiled a wide toothy smile and jumped on Jack, wrapping his hands around his neck and giving him a tight hug. Jack froze and David gasped, because this was the crowned prince for crying out loud, you couldn’t just surprise attack him with hugs—

But before David could apologize or even consider pulling Les away, Jack broke into laughter and returned the hug, arms snaking around the boy’s small back. Both of them were smiling and laughing breathily and damn it, David’s heart was beating so fast. Seeing Jack interact with young kids was a delight for him, and witnessing him and his own brother hugging like it was the last day on Earth in the middle of the castle’s walkway made him feel some sort of way.

Eventually the two boys parted, and David made Les promise to return to his room safely before dusk. The knight-to-be agreed and quickly took off, leaving David to escort Jack back into the castle, which was done in silence.

And try as he might, David couldn’t get the warmth of his cheeks or his rapid heartbeat to fade.

---

David’s chest rumbled as a loud groan ripped from his chest, storming into his room on the bottom floor of the castle. It was small but homey with wooden floors and plaster walls, decorated with a cot, some boxes to store his personal belongings and a decent sized vanity desk (Jack had it personally made for his birthday one year, and refused to take no for an answer).

He barely acknowledged Sarah at the vanity, messing with her chestnut brown hair. When he flopped down onto his bed and ceased all movement, she looked over with a cocked eyebrow. “What’s got you so huffy?”

Instead of answering her question, he flopped in his bed until he was on his back, staring at the ceiling like it had personally wronged him. “One of these days, I’m going to hit Prince Jack, I swear.”

“I’m pretty sure that could get you, like, arrested,” Sarah tapped at her lips in the mirror. “Tough day?”

“He keeps saying such weird things to me, and it overwhelms me, and I hate it!” David cried to the ceiling, reaching his arms up in despair before letting his hands fall to cover his face.

“Weird things like what?”

David moved his head to glare at his sister. “Why are you even in my room? Yours is next door, you know.”

“I know, but your rouge makeup is more pigmented than mine. I’m stealing some,” She said unabashedly, ignoring her brother’s offended noise. “What’s Prince Jack saying to you?”

His mind went through a recap of his day, which made his cheeks bloom red yet again, no rouge needed. “Things like how a blue fabric would bring out my eyes, how he learns from the best valet out there, or if I’m falling for him.” He chose to leave out the final thing he said during the measurement and fitting, because even he knows she would never let it go. As his sibling, she already teased him relentlessly, so he needn't give her more ammunation.

Sarah set down the pot of rouge, twisting her torso to look at her brother. “Do you know why he says those things?”

“I don’t know. To annoy me? To get under my skin?”

“What? No. He likes you, David.”

“No he doesn’t!” David shot back immediately, giving her a hard glare. “He doesn’t. He wouldn’t. He’s getting married to Princess Katherine, he couldn’t.”

Sarah leaned against the desk. “You realize he doesn’t wanna get married, right?” When he doesn’t respond, she continues. “And by the sounds of it, you like him too.”

“I do not!”

“Oh, you do so.”

“No I don’t.”

“You do.”

“Don’t.”

“Do!” Sarah declared, rising fully and slamming her hands against the desk to both punctuate her point and cut off any response from David. “I need to check in on Her Majesty one last time, I’m out of here. I’ll leave you to deal with your pining, little brother.”

“I do not pine!” David whined. Sarah simply shrugged and murmured something he couldn’t hear before exiting his room, making him all alone.

He turned and buried his face into his pillow, ignoring how the fabric folded uncomfortably against his face and moaned in despair. The pillow quieted his cries, which he was grateful for.

It was fine. David was a factual person. He surrounded himself with facts, things that grounded him. Facts like how the sun rises to start a day, while the moon rises to end one. Facts like how he woke up as the sun rose everyday, got ready and went to serve Jack. Facts like how he most certainly didn’t like Jack, and Jack didn’t like him.

Chapter Text

Being a prince, Jack had an extremely fine education. He had top-of-the-line educators in the most important topics; from a young age, he had been taught extensive military tactics, royal mannerisms, horsemanship, mathematics, and just about every year in the history of his kingdom. It was something he was extremely thankful for, but that being said, not all of his classes were entirely enjoyable. Some of them were so excruciatingly boring that he often debated slamming his head onto the desk until he passed out. Whatever hallucinations awaited him were surely more interesting.

Especially for the class he was currently in—Latin. It was beyond him why he had to learn a language that wasn’t even spoken in his kingdom, but every time he asked, Medda claimed it was for when important guests who came from areas that did speak it came. That made him wonder if he would have to learn every language ever for when a guest who spoke any given one visited, but they hadn’t forced that upon him yet, so he didn’t mention it. Count his blessings, and all of that.

There was only one thing Jack enjoyed about his Latin class and one thing alone: his teacher. David.

David was fluent in Latin (among other languages Jack couldn’t recall), and he was elected to teach the prince rather going through an extensive process of looking for, find, testing and trying out someone entirely new. Most of Jack’s teachers were middle-aged adults he barely knew that would often gloss over his mistakes just because he was royalty, and that made it difficult to actually learn anything. But he knew David, and consequently was aware his perfectionist-self would attack his errors head on.

In fact, it’s what he was doing right then.

“No, Your Highness, you’re pronouncing the word incorrectly,” David corrected lightly, pointing at the word that was written on a paper with a thin pencil. “It’s rrre-chi-pero, recipero. You’re saying it rey-see-pero.”

Jack sighed melodramatically. “Yeah yeah, I get it. Recipero,” he repeated, still somehow getting the pronunciation wrong despite being corrected nearly a million times.

“Recipero,” David pronounced the word correctly and slowly. “Focus on the word and it’s pronunciation, Your Highness.”

“Why would I when I can focus on you instead?” Jack shot back, a lazy smirk spread across his face like joney. The casual laugh that followed was on reflex as something in David’s expression briefly faltered, showing surprise and a smidge flattery, before immediately paving back over.

Jack wasn’t sure why David restrained his genuity so often, distributing his smiles and laughter seldomly—like they were prizes that needed to be won. The most recurrent reactions he got to his never-ending one-liners were overwhelmed flushes and subject changes. Of course he both accepted and found these reactions humorous, but he’s seen David smile and he’s heard David laugh, and thinking of them makes Jack wish those reactions were more common.

Because there was something about the way David’s steely blue eyes curved into crescent shapes when he smiled, the size depending on how wide the smile. There was something about the way that when he laughed, he had the tendency to lean on the closest object or person, and it felt like the sun was shining just a little bit brighter. Something about the way that whenever he did smile or laugh, for that fleeting moment, it felt like Jack wasn’t a prince forced in some ivory tower with David as his servant, but rather it felt real. It felt real and warm, and he desperately wanted to bottle that feeling up and save it forever.

He was near six feet deep in a daydream when David’s voice startled him out of it. “Your Highness? Jack!”

Jack came crashing back to Earth in a less than graceful way, his head slipping off the heel of his hand with only his reflexes saving him from chin-slamming the table. He blinked several times to shoo away the clouds floating in his mind, then turned his head to look at David, of whom was raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“Did you catch anything I just said?” He asked, chin lowering closer to his chest. In response, Jack sheepishly chuckled, hand ghosting the nape of his neck. David's expression was one he knew all too well, the If-You-Weren’t-A-Royal-So-Help-Me look, which he received on a near daily basis from the castle staff. For some reason they all had the notion that he would have them beheaded if they even dared raise their voice, so they gave him thinly veiled death stares instead.

“Well, no,” Jack admitted half-heartedly. “You’re just so pretty it’s distractin’, Dave. But I promise, you have my full attention now.”

David tightened his jaw and looked back to the paper in a weak attempt to mask any pink that coloured his cheeks, something that he tries to practice restraining daily. “I was explaining the origin of this word among some others, I find it quite interesting actually—”

Jack interrupted with a flirt, because of course he did. “I find you quite interesting.”

It took a lot of strength to keep David’s calm expression from breaking. More rosy pink swam its way onto his face. His left eye twitched as he ignored the feeling of Jack’s gaze on him.

“Are we going to get anything done, Your Highness?” David opted for a subject change. When Jack opened his mouth, he raised a finger and added. “And by anything, I mean any learning.”

“Probably not.”

If Jack was anything, he was honest. David swallowed a groan, picking up the neat pile of papers full of Latin words and their meanings that he had set down less than twenty minutes prior. This was the prince’s second appointment of the day, and he still had several—one being another meeting with Medda, King Joseph and Princess Katherine about wedding details—to go.

At his reaction, Jack raised his hands defensively. “It’s not my fault that this language is so hard! And boring! And dead, and—”

“I get it,” David interrupted. “But knowing multiple languages is beneficial and showcases your scholarliness.”

“I don’t have no scholarliness.” Jack retorted with a snort.

“It also shows that our kingdom is educated. A knowledgeable monarch reflects a knowledgeable kingdom.” The other boy continued, electing to ignore the sarcasm. “It's especially important since our union is resulting in our kingdom being discussed frequently. People often judge a place by its rulers.”

“And I’m sure that when they look at me, dressed in satin at the altar, they’ll think only of how uncultured I am for not knowing Latin.”

Though Jack’s tone was joking and sprinkled with laughter, it was obvious he was irked by thoughts of the wedding re-entering his mind. And David was never one to pry, much less when the person he was to pry from was uncomfortable (and a prince for that matter), but he found the words climbing up his throat before he could stop them. “Are you really dreading the wedding that much?”

The look Jack gave him in response made him shrink in his seat. He arched an eyebrow high up his forehead, his eyes widened and the side of his lip curled up in an unamused fashion so his right eye crinkled. “Jeez, Dave, for such a smart guy, you can be an airhead.”

“Ouch, Jack.” David’s thoughts were voiced before he could really think them over or filter them, and that shocked him. He flinched. It shocked Jack too, who’s expression deepened in surprise.

“No title? No ‘Your Highness’? Wow, might have you thrown in the dungeon for that one,” Jack outright laughed at the fleeting look of terror on his face. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! But to answer your question? Yes, I am really dreading the wedding that much.”

A sudden silence came after that, both boys looking at each other with equally questioning expressions, but for drastically different reasons.

“Why?” David managed to say after a minute of silence, unable to take the tenseness that came with the quiet. He internally cringed at how lame he sounded, but to the prince’s credit, he didn’t react poorly—only letting out a ‘ch’ noise from the corner of his mouth and letting his eyes slide across the view of the grand study of them.

“Well for one, Katherine and I are not interested in each other romantically. So that takes a lot of the glamour out of it,” Jack began, and the other boy was only slightly surprised. “And I just… really don’t wanna get married right now? So being forced to wed whether I like it or not is…” He trailed off, making a noncommittal noise in place of an adjective. It was one of those things that was difficult to put into words.

David nodded, staring at his hands that were folded in his lap. For some reason, the idea of looking at Jack in the eyes right then made something poke and prod at his insides. “That’s fair I suppose,” His voice came out quiet, hushed “But it’s in the best interest for your kingdom.”

“Now you’re soundin’ like my Mama,” Jack managed a chuckle. David ducked his head even more. “And you of all people should know that I’m not the best prince among the kingdoms.”

It was the first time Jack admitted he had shortcomings as a prince out loud, even if it’s barely a confession. The prince himself lowered his eyes to the table, leaning his head towards his shoulder, and the valet raised his head to eye the other with a peculiar look. David subtly narrowed his eyes as he stared at Jack, and was surprised to see him almost… abashed? Hesitant?

It made him feel bad. “So? You’re doing an amazing job on your own.”

Jack didn’t respond for a moment, glare fixed on a crease in his tunic sleeve. He breathed in, out, then turned to David with a devilish grin. “And it’s all because I have the best valet in the world, guidin’ me every which way.”

“Oh, thank you—” A faint layer of red dusts David’s face for what he thought must have been the sixth time that day and probably the thousandth that week. Before he can complete his response, the other continues.

“Say, Dave, are you anticipating the wedding? Excited to see the prince you’ve helped lead finally tie the knot?”

The way he words it makes David bark a laugh, and he was quick to slap a hand to his mouth. He cleared his throat. “I’m happy for you and to be getting this opportunity to expand our welfare, Your Highness.”

“Happy for me, huh?” Jack’s eyes falter from their position on David and he lets out a breathy chuckle.

“Of course. But— but if you’re so against—”

“Nah, I don’t need your pity,” Jack cut him off, near one hundred percent sure what was to follow those words. If you’re so against it, it’s okay, Your Highness. He clicked his tongue. “At least Katherine and I don’t have to constantly fake being in love, right? We get married, and that’s that. Consider us united."

Something about the way Jack said that, especially the last part, made David feel like someone suddenly hit him over the head. There was the usual dread in his tone that was constantly present when he discussed the wedding, but there was something more—almost like he was drained? Dejected? Another silence settled across the room like an uncomfortably warm blanket as the wheels in David’s head turned.

He opened his mouth to say something, to offer some sort of comforting consolation, but was again cut off, this time by a loud and sharp chiming. Both of the boys flinched at the abrupt noise, but slowly eased back into their chairs as they recognized the ringing as the local church’s bell that acted as the main time-teller and alarm for most of the kingdom. It clanged, ding ding ding, twelve times, until it stopped. Jack looked over at David.

“Noon,” David filled the silence, albeit a bit awkwardly, and stood, gathering all of his items. “We have another appointment for you to attend before lunch, then a meeting with Her Majesty, King Joseph, and Princess Katherine. Come along, Your Highness.”

Right. Another meeting. Jack groaned, head lolling back as he thought about just how much he didn’t want to go. Alas, there was no way for him to sneak away to avoid it, not with David on his trail until then. Besides, even if he were to somehow sneak away, it would be distasteful to have a meeting about a wedding when the groom was missing.

The prince stood, an obvious reluctance in the way he moved. He smoothed out wrinkles in his shirt, delicate against the fabric (he wasn’t sure of the name, but it was obviously one of the more expensive ones), but David still perfected it himself when he turned to him. A dull laugh caught in Jack’s throat.

All Jack could do was hope that whatever creator was up there would smile down and bless him with a miracle, because would he ever need it.

----

Jack was suffocating. In such a huge, grandiose castle, he felt like he was suffocating.

He sat on the edge of his bed, hands holding his thighs to keep them from shaking. Ambient noises of staff just outside the room and all around the castle felt distant, like they were a hundred feet away as opposed to the more realistic fifty. The only thing he could focus on at that moment was his own breathing; more specifically that no matter how deeply he breathed, his lungs felt dry.

His following appointment came and went, then after lunch he had to attend the dreaded meeting. Though he dragged his feet and constantly thought complaint after complaint, as soon as King Joseph and Princess Katherine arrived, he adopted his calm and wise princely guise. And despite it being the second meeting, it was still as awkward as ever.

No “ice” had been broken like what had been hoped. Rather, it almost felt more stiff and uncomfortable. Jack had to actually pay attention the whole time as his opinion was asked for frequently. He had no idea what the sudden urge to include him was, Medda making efforts to get him involved (“What do you think, Jack?” and “Which one do you prefer?”), but it made the hours it lasted feel like it dragged on and on.

They had made more decisions that afternoon—for example, the wedding was to be held in the courtyard of Joseph's castle with an audience of esteemed guests, much to Jack’s dismay. The worst moment of his life broadcasted to a group of princes, princesses, kings and queens, duchesses and dukes? How lovely. Some staff even stopped in to show King Joseph and Queen Medda what they were thinking for decorations, menus, and outfits.

The meeting took much too long to conclude. It was like Joseph could suspect how uncomfortable he was, and purposely brought up topic after topic just to prolong the pain. As soon as it was over, he told David he was going to review contracts in his study and left without waiting for a response. Of course that was a lie, as he just plunked down onto his bed the moment he got back to his room, but David hadn’t come to check on him yet. He would eventually, but until then, Jack sat there.

It was moments such as these that Jack realized the life of a prince—and simply the royal life in general—was not for him. Everyone expected so much from him and treated him as if he was above the rest of them just because of his title. The pressure was dealable most days, but then it would feel like a bus ran him over. People expected him to lead now as a prince, in the future as a king, and now his own marriage was anticipated by practically everybody.

He didn’t want to let them down.

Jack thought he had no reason to complain. His pocket money was what some of his subjects would make in a year, he had hundreds of people ready to obey his every command, and his home was a ginormous castle with everything anyone would ever need. Why would he be having a bad time? He felt selfish.

Negative and bleak words swarmed Jack’s mind in an angry frenzy. They made his breaths hasten and sent his vision swimming. His shining ivory tower felt less like a tower, and more like a shining ivory cage.

He needed to escape. Maybe he would go see Race, or go a bit further and visit Crutchie, he always knew the right things to say in moments of turmoil. Wherever he went didn’t matter, he just needed out.

Almost on impulse, Jack stood up, snuck over to the front door of his bedroom and opened it slowly. The sight of the hallway unfurled before him, and it made his mouth fall open. He had seen the hallway many many times, that’s not what shocked him. What did shock him was how many people were in the hallway.

With the door open, the noises of staff going about their routine were much louder, and there had to be at least a dozen of them winding through the hall leading to his room alone. And if the constant tapping and clanging was anything to go by, there was probably even more around the bend. Jack kept his door open only a smidge so none of them noticed him, because that was the last thing he needed. There was no way he was going to sneak out of the castle with that many people around. They would all ask where he was going and if he could come with them just for a moment, and it would be ruined.

When a pair of guards rounded the corner ahead, Jack closed his door and pressed his back to it, a sigh rattling his body. He had no clue why so many of the staff were around (it was most likely because the staff’s lunch hour had begun, but his logic was short circuiting at the moment), but it made him feel even more suffocated and trapped. Like a pillow was on his face, and the strongest man in the world was pushing it down.

He threw a fleeting glance to the window, near desperate enough to use that as an escape route, but discarded it as quickly as the thought came. His room was on the third floor—unless he was looking to break both his legs, that was not an option. Jack was back to square one; he was trapped. Again.

With trudging feet, he went back to the edge of his bed, but instead of sitting on it like before, he flopped down face first and let out an anguished groan.

What kind of prince got overwhelmed because of a meeting? Other princes and princesses got betrothed all the time, yet he was so opposed to it. Why couldn’t he just be like the others? What a bad prince he was.

A red fire danced in his heart, sending thick and dark smoky tendrils into his lungs and head. Jack was angry at himself, he was angry at his kingdom, he was angry at the world. He was angry at himself for being a prince so lacklustre, he was angry at his kingdom for having such high expectations for him, and he was angry at the world for playing such a cruel joke and having him be royal blood.

Once breathing into his blankets became a chore, Jack turned his head to the right so the side of his head pressed against the mattress. Right as he was about to get up and start actually reviewing some papers in his study (there was nothing else for him to do, and it might've saved him from himself), his eyes landed on a blank canvas and some paints on a shelf snuggled against the wall. A vague memory of receiving them for a birthday from some faraway land played in the back of his mind, but he didn't focus on it.

Before he could fully register what he was doing, Jack was up. He walked over to the shelf, filled his arms with the canvas, paintbrushes and paint bottles and lugged it back over to his bed. His mind only caught up with his body when he was seated again, canvas in his lap decorated with a dollop of blue paint, and the matching container in his hand.

Instead of fighting it, he embraced it. He picked up a paintbrush with a thick brush, let it sink into the pool of paint and allowed his heart to guide his fingers.

What the canvas came to be was a gorgeous prismatic array of countless colourful swirls. They were in no particular order or fashion, but rather jumbled together in a way that made it impossible to tell where the brushstrokes ended and where they began. Jack liked it that way, it represented his mind. He also represented his mind and how he felt im the colours he chose, switching to a different paintbrush for each one.

There was blue, representing the sadness he felt having his own future being out of his control. There was red, representing the anger that raged in his heart over being trapped with no way out. There was grey, representing the confusion over what was happening in his life nowadays, which seemed to be a constant lately. There was brown, black, pink, green, and orange—Jack kept using colours until he ran out of paintbrushes.

And when he did, he took in a deep breath, one that finally satisfied his lungs, and heaved it out. Something in his mind told him to throw it out and never look at it again, split it directly down the middle and tear up the remaining halves. But a stronger voice said to keep it. It was a pretty painting, and if anyone asked, he could say it was a gift. They didn’t need to know the truth.

So Jack took his painting over to one of the many tall windows in his room and set the canvas on the windowsill, leaving the window open just a tad. Any wind that blew in would help it dry faster. When it was sturdy, Jack managed a weak smile at what he created.

His gaze drifted out the window, scanning the view of some pavilion that it gave him. Tall trees swayed as a cool breeze whistled. Just in his line of sight given by the window was a young boy, jumping around eagerly, as if the wind was making them dance as well. The boy seemed younger than Les, but not by much. Regardless of how old they were, they wore a carefree expression as they bounced from leg to leg, arms wiggling in the air like branches.

Something in Jack’s heart clenched at the sight. Before he could figure out the feeling, a tall woman—presumably his mother—hurried over to him and crouched to meet his height. She wove her fingers through the boy’s hair and cradled his face delicately, saying something that was completely inaudible from Jack’s distance. The clench grew stronger.

After the boy and his mother talked for several minutes, they smiled, and they laughed. The boy glanced over to the side for a brief moment, an instinct perhaps, but gasped and pointed once he noticed Jack in the window. Excitedly, he frantically patted his mother's arm and gestured towards the prince. She looked just as surprised to see him, but nonetheless, after she gave her son a tap on the shoulder, the little family bowed graciously to acknowledge his presence.

Of course, being a prince who had to keep up his image, Jack waved back regally and gave a kind smile.

When they looked away, he closed the window.

Chapter Text

Jack wasn’t sure who his reflection was anymore.

He was elegantly dressed up in his most princely attire; black trousers with crisp hems, long crimson red tailcoat decorated with divine silvery embroidery, and milky white cuffs and lapels. Shining golden buttons lined the opening, and a lacey ascot adorned his neck. With his outfit, he looked like a million dollars, and if anyone else were to wear it, they would feel like a million dollars.

However, Jack felt rather empty.

Poised in front of his large vanity, the prince stared at his reflection in the mirror, and he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it. He wasn’t sure if he was feeling at all, actually. There was a smidgen of exhaustion, a bit of apprehension, but when he tried to reach and feel beyond that, that there was nothing. Just blankness wherever his emotions were supposed to be.

Tonight there was to be a grand banquet, it’s purpose being to announce his and Katherine's betrothal—and everyone was positively buzzing. Even then as Jack analyzed himself in the mirror, a less than a hour before he was meant to head down, he could hear a fervent bustle around him. Cooks dashing about like chickens with their heads cut off and finalizing the menu to perfection, guards patrolling the area in large groups so no criminals took advantage of a mostly empty castle, and esteemed guests pulling up in their carriages just outside.

Earlier, David had come in and assisted Jack in choosing an outfit, a ten minute interval that had no shortage of cheesy one-liners. When that indulgent session was over, David primly said he would await him at the dining hall entrance (“Don’t miss me too much, Dave!”). Since then, Jack had been gazing into the mirror, musing and dreading the evening ahead.

Jack focused his eyes on a section of his blazer’s beautiful detailing, leisurely trailing them down the pattern and inspecting every neat little stitch. When he got to the banquet, his presence would be announced, and nearly a hundred sets of eyes would be on him in an instant. They would all stand, bow, and clap, and simply imagining all that attention on him made Jack feel queasy.

And if that wasn’t enough, then his marriage with Katherine would be announced. A silence would be called for, and the declaration would be made loud and clear. People would probably give applause, and all eyes would be back on him yet again. They would think their honest thoughts about it, but only make the positive ones public. Part of him wished someone would speak up, say a 'wait' or 'if' statement, one that would make it valid for him to ditch his bride-to-be (no offence, Katherine).

At that moment, Jack wanted nothing more than to escape and go see any of his friends in the village, to distract himself with Racer's stupid humour or Charlie's bright outlooks. But that wasn't possible.

Once the wedding was unfortunately announced, there was no going back. It would spread like wildfire from kingdom to kingdom, become the tantalizing gossip that would lurk through pubs and travel behind hands: “Have you heard? Prince Jack is marrying Princess Katherine. I know!”

Everyone would know, and everyone would have expectations. Jack hated expectations.

More wedding-related occasions would come up and bombard his schedule. There would be no running or hiding from his inevitable betrothal. And soon enough, he would be actually married. That thought scared him. He would be married (to a woman he doesn’t love nonetheless), the crowned prince, looking after two kingdoms all at once—and consequently, the king of those two kingdoms someday.

All at the ripe age of 18 years old.

A sudden fluttery, fearful feeling flitted into Jack’s chest, a butterfly with razor blades for wings. The previous weeks had been difficult already, and it was only uphill from here.

The sound of his door opening startled him out of his thoughts. No knocks preceded it, so the abruptness annoyed him just as much as it shocked him. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this. Staff always knocked on doors before they entered, especially the prince’s own bedroom. It must be someone new.

Because he was already irritated, Jack was ready to give whoever it was an earful, turning to glare at the door with furrowed eyebrows. “Excuse me! Please knock before entering!”

As soon as he said it, a rich, almost harmonious laugh filled the room. It rang a bell in the back of Jack’s mind, and seeing the figure step into his room confirmed his thoughts of who it was.

In stepped Medda, an amused smile drawn on her pretty face. “I don’t need to knock on any doors in my castle, do I?”

He released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Of course not,” Jack relinquished his refined front with relief. “Hi, Mama.”

Medda sailed across the room to Jack, the warm expression she wore bringing him comfort. When she reached him, he allowed his exhaustion to take control and collapsed onto her, arms wrapping around her back. She was quick to return the embrace, holding her son close and smoothing careful, relaxing circles into his shoulder blades.

Jack quietly relished the solace his mother brought. Others saw her as a beautiful, elegant and wise queen—which of course she was, but to him, it was different. She was his brilliant mother, who, despite being a queen, always made time to spend time with him instead of handing the job off to servants.

It would’ve been so easy for her to assign someone else the task of looking after him, but she didn’t. Instead she raised him herself, teaching him morals, values, and lessons that he still believed to that day.

To Jack, Medda was all sorts of beautiful, elegant and wise, but above all, she was his caring mother who he loved more than anything.

His head rested on her shoulder, and he turned it so he could examine their reflections. Medda was wearing a luxurious vermillion gown with a swooping skirt and silver detailing that mirrored Jack's own. While she was undeniably stunning, he definitely noticed how they were both wearing King Joseph's signature colour—red. That thought irked him. Before he could think about it further, Medda looked over at the mirror as well, and the raging tide in his mind calmed. The two made eye contact.

Jack sighed. “Mama, do I have to get married?”

“Of course, Jack,” Medda said it like it’s obvious, which made Jack inwardly groan. Everyone was happy except for him. One of her hands came to rest on the curve of his back. “Why do you ask? Aren’t you excited?”

“I mean, sure, but,” Jack's voice tapered off, eyes falling from the mirror to the desk space below it.

He wasn’t sure how to explain just how much he didn’t want to get married and how much he didn’t want to be a prince. There was no emotions to speak into existence, no justification for what he was thinking. Even if he tried, he would upset her, and he'd rather get married on the spot than do that.

Since he was first told about the wedding, he’d made an effort to quiet his displeasures around her; she was a queen and had much more responsibilities and stressors. She didn’t have time for his unfortunate plights, much less waste time worrying about them. How was he supposed to say, I feel like I’m trapped just by existing and I don’t want to get married or even be a prince, I wish I could just run away sometimes, and I often sneak out of the castle without anyone knowing just to have a break from it all without making her worried or upset? He couldn't.

Besides, if he told her about his unsupervised escapades, he would lose that release. Guards would be assigned to watch him 24/7, and that would make life descend into the seventh ring of Hell.

So instead of ripping out his heart and letting himself bleed, he simplified. “I just have been feeling really down lately. Thinking about the future and stuff.”

Okay, he oversimplified.

Nonetheless, he felt his mother let out a sigh and nod, as if she understood all of his pain without even needing to hear it. That’s something Jack appreciated, she always seemed to understand, and never forced information out of him if he didn’t want to. Thinking about it made him hug her a little tighter.

“I know how you feel, Jack. I’ve been there,” Medda said with a slight titter. The statement made Jack pause, raising an eyebrow in bemusement.

He lifted his head to face her. “You’ve been there?” He stifled a laugh when she nodded. “No way. I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true! I understand,” Medda rebutted lightly. She swiped an out of place hair on Jack’s head back into order. “Feeling like you’re at a crossroads, and both roads lead to deadends. I get it. Despite what you may think, I didn’t become a queen overnight.”

Jack let out a laugh at that, and both of them grin. “No, really? I thought you became a queen right when you were born.”

“Sorry to disprove the rumours,” She joked. “But I understand, Jack. The feeling of being all boxed up when all you want to do is fly,” She trailed off, looking to the side in a wistful sort of way that made Jack’s pity for himself turn into worry for his mother.

Just how much did she really understand? He was his mother's son. How far did the apple fall from the tree?

He didn’t respond. He wasn’t really sure how to. Perhaps they did suffer the same struggles, then, but that was the past. Medda was a queen now, and got served a mountain of struggles daily. What a prince worried about versus what a queen worried about were drastically different.

“Jackie, look in the mirror,” Medda tapped his shoulder lightly and parted from the hug a few inches. He did hesitantly, standing fully and facing the mirror. “You know what I see? I see a strong, handsome, generous, and independent young man who’s going to be a fantastic king one day.”

The words made an unconscious smile tug at Jack’s lips. His eyes roved up and down his mirror-self, and though he failed to see where those positive adjectives came from, the sentiment did make him feel just a bit better.

“You think so?” Jack asked hopefully, like a little boy daring to dream for the first time.

“I know so. Everything will fall into place, you’ll see,” Medda smiled affectionately, straightening the lapels of his blazer.

Jack watched her. Something gloomy and bleak peeked from the back of his mind. “But what if it doesn’t?”

She didn’t falter at his doubts. “Then you’ll have people to fall back on to help you. And I know you’re smart enough to figure anything out, Jack. You just need to put your mind to it.”

Though he was still considerably upset, his mother's words did make Jack feel a tad better; definitely better than when she had first walked in. Somehow she always knew just what to say to make everything that was wrong feel right, even if only for a night. He just hoped her words were true. Because he definitely didn’t feel independent, generous or strong—and nevermind being even a remotely good king. To reassure himself, he whispered Medda’s words in his brain, like a mantra of hope.

Something vicious and bitter in a dark corner of Jack’s mind snarled that even his own mother had expectations now, expecting him to be the king of the century, but he balled it up and threw it away for the time being. Self loathing could wait until later. He had a banquet to attend.

After a minute of silence, Medda fully parted from the embrace and faced Jack. In her hands, she held his crown, compact and golden. She met his eyes. “Are you ready to go down there?”

In complete honesty, no, he was not ready to go down there. But he couldn’t say that when he was the guest of honour. Besides, he knew that he would never be ready for anything in his life. It’s not like he could hide in his room forever.

It was also likely more of a rhetorical question, anyway.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jack decided to say, it being the closest thing to the truth. He closed his eyes and lowered his head to Medda, allowing her to properly crown him. She placed the crown delicately on the top of his head, making sure it was firmly on place, then made a quiet noise of approval that let Jack know he could stand up.

He threw a glance at the mirror. Somehow, with his crown on, he looked even less recognizable. The harsh feelings that rose in his gut made him feel slightly dizzy, and he tried to suppress it, swallowing hard.

Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could forget about his shortcomings and how different he was from other monarchs and be a worthwhile prince, even just for a little bit.

So Jack stuck out his arm to Medda, who took it with a smile and a laugh, and the two walked downstairs to join the banquet.

———

As they went in, an announcer spoke grandly:

“Queen Medda Larkin."

Applause.

"Prince Jack Larkin."

Applause

The two entered the banquet hall, and just as Jack expected (and feared), everyone’s eyes were stuck to him. He forced the nervousness and nausea in his gut to the side, instead focusing on giving his best prince-like smile and making sure it didn’t waver. Everyone who was seated rose up to bow, and those who were still standing turned to face them and bowed as well. Some only dipped their shoulders or gave a brief nod, whereas others made a sharp ninety degree angle with their body.

Jack took the brief moment that he was up at the front of the room to analyze the scene. It was an imposing room that was equally wide and long, multiple extensive dining tables draped with expensive tablecloths laid out to form a large U shape. All of the seats were set with proper tableware and relatively similar in design, save for the two larger and grander ones in the middle of the head table that were meant for him and Medda respectively. Around the tables were empty spaces designated for mingling, the only occupied spaces being for decorative furniture near the walls and corners, plus a well-dressed sextet playing elegant music on polished instruments.

The people receded from their bows, those who were still standing went to be seated, and Medda and Jack made their way to their chairs at the head of the room. When Jack noticed Princess Katherine and King Joseph coming over to take a seat near them, his stomach twisted into something terrified. If he had to sit alongside Joseph Pulitzer for an entire dinner, he might just wither away and never return—however, much to his immense relief, he sat on Medda’s side, and Katherine went beside her Father. It was only a seat away, but it made all the difference.

David and Sarah quietly followed and stood behind the prince and queen, hands folded behind their backs. Before a new chatter could settle in and distract the room, Medda arose from her seat and called everyone’s attention by lightly tapping the handle of a fork against the stem of a wine glass.

The clinking was swift to drag everyone’s attention. Once she was certain everyone was looking, Medda set down the silverware and smoothed the front of her skirt. “Good evening, our dear guests. I am thrilled you all were able to make it tonight despite your busy schedules. Your presence means a lot to us.”

A flattering opening. Classy. Everyone murmured general statements of agreement and positivity. Jack grinned as he looked up at his mother, pride swelling in his chest.

“We have invited everyone here tonight to celebrate some exciting news we have to share,” Medda continued. The pride in his chest depleted in an instant. She glanced down at the three royals on her sides, and only when both Joseph and Katherine stood did Jack do the same. “King Joseph and I have come to an agreement recently that will mutually benefit both of our kingdoms.”

A mutual benefit. Good for both parties. It will bring wealth and prosperity. All of that sounded like bullshit to Jack—in what way was he benefiting? In what way was this good for him?

She paused for a moment to build suspense, then came the inevitable: “Prince Jack and Princess Katherine are to be betrothed! We have decided this because combining our resources together will create one flourishing nation.”

Betrothed. Jack remembered when he barely knew what that word meant, but he had heard it so much recently that it was practically engraved into his brain, searing a ruthless path through his memory banks.

The room erupted into quiet gasps and various other surprised reactions, proclamations of “Really?” and "Oh, goodness.” Such were appropriate reactions, what with two of the biggest kingdoms around becoming one, but it felt like Jack was grinding his teeth against a curb. He yet again forced a regal smile and wave as another applause came, this one hesitant and scattered.

Briefly, Jack glimpsed over at Katherine, making a point to avoid looking at the king beside her. Katherine was beautiful, glowing with radiance in a powder blue gown with lace sleeves, red curls pulled into a sleek half-up half-down style.

“Additionally, Queen Medda and I cordially extend an invitation to all of you who attended this event tonight to attend the wedding,” Joseph’s voice cut through the room like a sharp knife, and that knife twisted in the prince’s gut. “We plan to have it take place in several months. Once the exact date is decided, you’ll receive notice. We only want the finest guests to be present.”

The authority and confidence in his voice made all of the guests nod and utter various agreements, as if it was a spell that lulled them to view the marriage as a good thing. For Jack, it only made him more sick. Now everybody would know about it, and everybody would see it in a positive light—worst of all, they would think that Jack agreed to it.

Yet another round of applause came, this time more sure and congratulatory. Maybe Joseph just had that effect on people. All four standing royals smiled, each with varying levels of sincerity. Jack fought to keep his steady, because by tomorrow morning the entire kingdom (never mind all the other kingdoms) would know he was getting married, and oh, did he ever not want anything less.

“Let us dine in celebration!” Medda declared joyously. Everyone seemed to agree with the statement, like they were famished from simply sitting there and listening to the announcement.

As the monarchs sat back down, the chefs began to enter the room, carrying plates and platters in their hands and on their arms. They briskly served the food with a skilled grace, making sure each guest got a plate customized to their own liking.

The appetizer was brief but satisfying and it passed quickly. Then came the main course, which was significantly (but expectedly) more, surprising even Jack. Annoyance soon followed his surprise, as when he went to reach for a fork, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He didn’t even bother looking at David behind him, instead moving his hand to each fork until he didn’t feel that tap tap on his shoulder.

This occurred multiple times throughout the meal; Jack would reach for a fork, a knife, or a spoon and feel that pat on his left shoulder. Sometimes he would also hear a muttered, “That’s your salad fork” or “That’s the soup spoon, use the tablespoon,” just under din of the music.

Normally Jack loved hearing David’s voice, but under those circumstances and on that night, he was one more correction away from slamming his head into too-chocolatey dessert.

Eventually the three course meal ended, and the guests slowly began to disperse. Some lingered and discussed with other attendees, or leisurely sipped on wine and champagne as they presumably await a carriage. Jack watched them, only having the urge to get up when he overheard whispers of Joseph and Medda discussing beside him. Whatever they were saying, he didn't want to know. It would make him remember. So he absentmindedly grabbed a glass in front of his plate, stood and walked a ways away from the dining table.

When he was a good distance away, he took a sip from the glass in his hand—only to immediately cringe, his entire face cinching in discomfort, hiding his distaste by turning to face the wall. He had grabbed a glass of champagne, and only realized after tasting it that he hated alcohol. There was a reason he didn’t drink during the meal.

The entire night had only made Jack feel out of place. Silently, he watched other rulers who effortlessly stood with their backs straighter than poles and pins and radiated with poised auras. They were sophisticated in their finest clothes, embroidered dresses and suits galore, and talked with importance. Even the ones who stood alone emitted enough confidence to compensate for a group of people.

Jack was not like them.

It almost made him feel guilty. He wanted to be a good prince, he wanted to be a good king. But no matter how hard he tried, there was always that part of him that despised anything and everything royal. The other princes in the room would think he had lost his mind if they knew he thought like that. His mother had so much faith in him—no, his kingdom had so much faith in him—to become a wise ruler that will lead everyone to a brighter future.

Yet there he was, in the middle of a royal banquet, feeling sorry for himself.

His gaze snagged on a group of three women congregating near the entrance. Their dresses were vibrant greens, reds, violets and blues, and their skirts were large enough to have their own orbits. They leaned back and forth to speak to one another in hushed whispers, giggling into their silky opera gloves.

As if on cue, all three swung their heads to look over at Jack, and seemed staggered that he was already looking. They waved to the prince (albeit a bit too eagerly), of whom returned the gesture.

He needed to get out of here. He eyed a part of the room with enough people that, if he timed it right, he could hide behind easily and slink away through a side entrance. Just wait for them to line up in the perfect way, and he was free.

Right before he could enact his great escape, though, he heard an uncomfortably familiar voice call out to him.

“Ah, there he is! Good evening, Prince Jack,” King Joseph said, walking up to the boy.

Shit.

Jack barely managed to unclench his face before he turned around. “Good evening, Your Majesty.”

Joseph approached Jack so their distance was only two feet, and that alone made the prince intensely uncomfortable. Too close.

That feeling of discomfort skyrocketed when he noticed the two men flanking the king on either side, their unreadable expressions rather unsettling. They both were staring directly at him.

“Allow me to make introductions. Prince Jack, this is Snyder and Seitz,” Joseph made gestures as he spoke. “Snyder and Seitz, this is Prince Jack.”

“Greetings, Your Highness.”

“It’s an honour, Your Highness.”

Snyder was an older man, his gradually balding head covered in white hair. He was dressed in a mere black and white suit with simplistic silver swirls on the shoulders that trailed down the sleeves, the lesser outfit an indication of his lesser title—most likely a baron or earl of some sort. The way his silvery blue eyes tracked each of Jack's shifting movements made his skin crawl.

Seitz was old as well, but not as old as Snyder, if the small amount white hairs peeking through his bronze hair was anything to go by. His attire was a plain grey and white suit, the blazer of which had been taken off sometime during the night and was now held against his side. Just like Snyder, he watched the prince with an unnerving stare from behind wiry glasses.

“A pleasure,” Jack nodded, uneasy.

Joseph seemed satisfied, and took that as a signal to talk again. “I must say, tonight was quite an enjoyable evening. The announcement went well, don’t you all think?”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“Undoubtedly, Your Majesty.”

Jack wondered if the king only had these men around to agree with him and make him sound smarter. His instinct was to disagree, but swallowed the harsh words and replaced them with sugarcoated ones that they would want to hear. “I agree. The other royals seemed to take it well.”

The king smiled. “Of course they did, this is the optimal decision for both our kingdoms,” Jack held back a sigh at the words. “Once we join together, we will have copious wealth and a promising future.”

“It will be wonderful, Your Majesty.”

“The most promising future indeed, Your Majesty.”

Okay, Jack was convinced he only had these guys around to sound smarter. He had to clench his teeth to keep from laughing at the revelation.

“Aren’t you excited to be marrying my beautiful daughter?” Joseph directed the question to Jack, slightly tilting his head to the side with a quirked eyebrow. Something in his chest lurched.

Sure, Katherine was beautiful and wise, anyone with eyes could recognize that. But did he want to marry her? Not really.

But that response would make people upset—and potentially set a king after his head—so Jack held back and lied through his teeth. “Of course I am, Your Majesty.”

“Wonderful!” Joseph remarked approvingly, as if there was a right and wrong answer to the question he asked. “Really, this unification is a marvellous idea. One of my best ones yet."

Something about the way Joseph talked made Jack want to claw out his eyes. He spoke almost condescendingly, how he would be joining them, how Jack was marrying Katherine, and how the marriage was his idea. Like everything was because of him, like Jack's kingdom and it’s royals were one of his many sheep. It made something red and hot bubble deep in Jack’s stomach, and he had a sudden urge to hit something.

Then Jack remembered he had a glass of champagne in his hand.

Without another thought, he threw the near full champagne glass into King Joseph Pulitzer’s face.

Golden liquid went flying at the king, splashing on his face and chest. Jack added an exaggerated stumble into his movement to make it seem like an accident, like he simply tripped on something, even throwing in a shocked exclamation. “Oops!”

As if on cue in a play, the entire room went quiet. Everyone who was left erupted into hushed gasps, staring at the prince and the king with horrified looks because somebody just dumped a glass of champagne onto a king’s face. All of the remaining guests watched the two with bated breaths.

On the other hand, Jack didn’t break eye contact with Joseph, challenging him with only his eyes as his hold on the now empty glass in his hand unconsciously tightened. The two stared at each other intensely for several long, long moments.

After what felt like an eternity, Joseph broke eye contact and swiped his fingers against his shoulders, as if it was only dust and not champagne. As if he may not ever be able to get the stains out of that suit. He let out a dignified (and slightly chagrined) huff, straightened his suit jacket and left the room with all the regality one could have when covered in champagne. Snyder and Seitz followed in tow, whispering concernedly to the king.

The room warily eased into uneasy conversation, and though Jack felt terrified having done what he just did, he also felt a strange sense of pride. A sly smirk made its way onto his face as he silently celebrated his odd victory.

When he turned around, David was there, and he was staring at him incredulously. Right, he followed. Of course he did. “You— You did that on purpose.”

Jack feigned innocence. “I did not, I tripped.” He didn’t fail to notice the sudden edge David held in his voice, and it would be a lie to say he wasn’t at least a bit impressed.

“On what? The air?”

“I’m a clumsy person,” Jack shrugged aimlessly. He tugged at the sleeves of his blazer before placing his empty glass on the tray of a passing caterer staff, electing to ignore how they were likely trying to hear what he was saying. “I’m leaving.” The prince said simply, lacking the energy to say anything more.

And he did, knowing David would relay the message to Medda regardless and that he wouldn’t be missed any. The meal was over. The wedding was announced. his duty was done. He made his way up the stairs and through the halls, not responding to any of the staff he passed by wishing him a good night.

In fact, he didn’t even bother to change out of his fancy clothes, for once he got to his room he collapsed onto his bed in exhaustion. The fabric was probably folding in ways that would leave crease marks, and people were already on his case about taking better care of his expensive outfits. In that moment, though, Jack couldn't have cared less.

So, Jack squeezed his eyes closed and buried his face into his blankets until he fell into a blank, dreamless sleep

Chapter Text

David had no clue how he got himself roped into this.

He really had no clue how he got himself roped into this.

His day had begun normal enough; he rose with the sun, got ready, and went over his daily to-do list a dozen times. It was noticeably shorter than usual, so that had set him in a rather cheerful mood. Alas, that mood lasted less than ten minutes, because when he went to see if Jack was awake, he was gone.

If the prince wasn’t around when the typical castle bustle began and his absence was noticed, not only would he be in trouble, but so would David. He would be blamed for not taking care of the prince, not keeping him safe and just letting him get kidnapped—and that would cost him his head. So, to keep all of his body parts, he was swift to silently gear up a horse and ride off to find Jack before anyone noticed that he was gone.

It took around twenty minutes of riding to find him, twenty minutes of David checking three of his common run-away-areas. He wasn’t in the further parts of the village, he wasn’t by the creek just past a thick bush, nor was he at the hills. With every empty horizon, his heart began to beat a little faster.

When David finally found him, his heart leaped into his throat.

Jack was with two of his friends, a small blond boy leaned up against a crutch (if David could remember right, he went by Crutchie, a rather blunt nickname), and Race. That was normal, as they were the two Jack spent the most time with. What made David feel faint was the fact that Race was swinging around a sharp, silvery axe, glowing in the light of dawn. It thwacked against a tall and thick log, shaving away flimsy twigs and any other imperfections like a knife through butter. Jack held the wood in place, and the blade was cutting a bit too close to his fingers for David’s liking. If Jack had even a scratch on him when they got back to the castle, he was done for.

His panic getting the best of him, David was quick to interject, galloping up on his horse and insisting that they had to leave before he lost a limb. But, like he always did, Jack complained about not wanting to go back to the castle, that with him getting married soon he should be allowed to have some fun.

It seemed they had different definitions of fun, then.

David wanted to argue again that they really needed to head back, preferably as soon as possible before it was noticed that both the prince and his valet were gone, but didn't get more than three words out. All coherent thoughts he had went scattering as Jack smiled widely and laughed, the sound clear as a bell and carefree, claiming that he should just join in on the fun.

Something about that smile made David hesitate. His breath hitched.

Jack must have seen his hesitation as agreement, because soon David was being tugged off his horse and over to the log. There was a distant buzz, one of them beckoning Race to tie up David's stallion, but he couldn't really make the words out. All he could register was Jack's fingers, firm and warm around his forearm.

The minutes that followed were but a hazy blur. David barely participated in any conversation outside of a murmur or non-committal noise, and felt rather than heard the body-shaking axe strikes as the log was trimmed into a board shape.

When David’s mind finally began to catch up with his surroundings, freezing white water sprayed against his face as he stood in front of a raging river. The four boys stood in a line, each holding a section of their makeshift log-board, Race being at the front and Jack being just behind David at the back. If his heart was in his throat before, now it was threatening to vault into (and maybe even out of) his mouth. Their log-board had a rounded, half-circle like bottom with a flat top, and David’s hands were trembling as he held it.

The other boys' chatter reached his ears then, utters of, ‘this is going to be so much fun,’ and ‘I can’t wait, I can’t wait!’

David, on the other hand, could.

It felt like it happened in both a half-second and in slow motion. They were holding the log, three of the four boys excitedly counting down from five to one. They were running forward, David’s legs going against his will, only because someone was behind him. They jumped, hastily sliding to sit on and straddle the log, holding on for dear life. They were sailing down the raging white river, and David’s logical mind finally snapped to attention.

The four of them were sailing down a violent river using a flattened log as their raft. Just like that, David clutched onto the sides of the log until both of his hands were fully white, feeling his heartbeat in his teeth.

Shouts and cheers of ecstatic delight erupted from the others, while David just barely managed to bite back a horrified scream. The log bounced over, around and through the choppy waves. Every time they narrowly avoided crashing into a rock he would hold on tighter and clench his jaw harder.

How did David get himself into this?

Every muscle in his body was taut and his eyes were squeezed shut, too afraid to see the river ahead anymore. If he focused on the other boys’ gleeful noises, he could try to ignore the sound of the thrashing waves.

Eventually David’s terror was interrupted by an abrupt shout. He couldn’t tell if it was from Crutchie or Race, but it cut loud above the waves: “We’re going over!”

Then he was underwater.

His head stung and he nearly choked on an unwanted gulp of water, but his well taught survival instincts kicked in less than a second later. Immediately he was up and swimming for his life, feeling nothing but burning fear pulsating in his chest. He skimmed past a few rocks, some of the rougher ones tearing through a layer or two of cloth and skin, but that pain wasn’t close to being his first priority at the moment. All he could think of was swim, swim, swim.

After swimming like a madman, David managed to reach the riverbank, hauling himself up and over with a guttural heave and cough. Dark, wet hair dangled around his head like a crown of seaweed, and his soaked clothes hung low, sticking to his skin as if it was glue instead of water. He collapsed to his stomach, coughing up water droplets and trying desperately to catch his breath.

He had just sailed down a raging river using a log as a raft. The situation set in, as did the ache in his bones.

When he could breathe without coughing or sputtering, David adjusted to sit facing the river, hand on his chest as his breaths became more regulated. It wasn’t even 8 AM and he already had a near death experience. That wasn’t on his to-do list.

He watched Race curl an arm around Crutchie’s torso and pull the both of them up the riverbank. Once on dry land, Crutchie shook moisture off the crutch he somehow kept within reach and stretched out his left leg that bent out a little more than his right. Just beside him, Race took to wringing out his clothes as well as he could without fully taking them off.

Dozens of alarms instantly rang in David’s mind. Where was Jack? Had he made it out? Could he swim? David never asked or knew, and right then he really wished he did. Wh—

His thoughts ground to a halt when lively laughter rang out from just below the riverbank, and he recognized it in an instant. He peered over the edge and saw Jack floating in the calm waters beside the bank, head leaned back without a care in the world.

Ignoring the way his muscles throbbed and his stomach lurched, David hurriedly leaned down and dragged him out and onto the land. He was about to conduct an emergency injury check on the prince (though he wasn’t sure how successful that would be with the way his mind was racing), but before he could, the royal was up and running.

He rushed over to Race and Crutchie with an ear to ear grin, tackling Race with an awkward half-hug, laughter trailing his steps. Soon enough other the two were chuckling as well, and David was stunned—how were they so happy after a situation like that?

“I’ve never felt more alive!” Jack exclaimed in between his loud? infectious laughs, “Racer, that is the best idea you’ve ever had.”

Race gave a teasing grin of his own as he squeezed water out of his tunic sleeves. “I know, I know. I'm a genius. All'a my ideas are great.”

“A real humble genius you are, too,” Crutchie snorted from his spot on the ground, massaging his leg. The aforementioned ‘genius’ gave him a light playful nudge with his foot.

“Can’t help it when I’m so amazingly smart,” He shot back. “Even His Highness says so. Maybe I should be one of them smart officials in the castle. What are they called, Jackie-boy?”

“You mean the stewards?”

“Eh, sure. Maybe I should be one of them castle stewards. I’m sure I would get a glowing recommendation for the job. Wouldn’t'cha put in a good word for me, Your Highness?” Race turned to Jack and batted his wet eyelashes.

Jack rolled his eyes, “I don’t know about that.”

“How rude! Here I was thinking that the prince was nice,” He scoffed dramatically, making both Crutchie and Jack giggle.

The three boys gradually transitioned into natural, casual conversation, idle chatter as the sun appeared. At that point, David had stood up and dried off a tad, was fuming enough to dry the rest of him.

When Jack fell quiet, simply watching his friends converse, David went over and tapped his arm to get his attention. Before turning around, his posture straightened and his expression twisted into something charming.

“Daaaave, hey!” Jack casually greeted with a slight wave. All David did was sigh and pull him away from the others. When they were some steps away from Race and Crutchie, of whom were trapped in their own world, he spoke again. “Wasn’t that fun?”

“Fun?" David choked. “This is your idea of fun?”

“Anything other than my daily life is fun, honestly.”

David struggled to find any words. If Jack got hurt, the blame would fall squarely on his shoulders. His entire job was to watch him, and him receiving any sort of injury would mean he had failed. He’s heard stories of past valets and ladies in waiting that let their monarch wander a little too that make him shiver; though, those could just be tall tales from Sarah and his parents to make him less inclined to break the rules.

He messily collected some of his thoughts and swallowed, returning his shaky gaze to him, “Your Highness, you are a prince.”

Jack slowly cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah, a prince who hates being a prince. We’ve been over this.”

Outside of his possible exile-ment—which honestly felt like a second priority—David couldn’t really pinpoint exactly why he was so frustrated. The stormy feeling rumbled fiercely in his head and stomach without reason. They wouldn’t really fire him, would they? Not with the wedding approaching, not when Jack would likely fight for him to stay. So why was he so concerned about losing his job? Why was he stressing about that when the important matter here was that Jack could've gotten seriously hurt?

David brushed away those thoughts and ran a hand through his damp hair, “I—It doesn’t matter,” He shook his head furiously. “We could’ve been killed. You could’ve been killed!”

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad. You and I both know I've done riskier things than this," Jack waved a dismissive hand. "Besides, I wouldn’t. If I died, I wouldn’t see you, which is what I live everyday for.” Jack threw in a wink with his cheeky one-liner, taking a subtle step forward.

“Ja—Jack,” David stammered, briefly pausing to collect and filter his thoughts. “Your Highness, please. You’re getting married.”

Were those words meant to reprimand Jack, or to soothe the storm in his head?

“You know as well as I do that Katherine and I aren’t interested in each other in the slightest. She isn’t what I want,” Jack rolled his eyes, as if having this conversation alone was tiring.

David sighed deeply, shoulders drooping like wilting plants. The exhaustion that came with swimming was catching up to him, and that was on top of already being drained from Jack’s behaviour. “Then what do you want, Your Highness?”

“You, Davey. I want you.”

Oh.

A deep red flush bloomed across David’s cheeks, warming his face right up. Whatever he expected the answer to be, it certainly wasn’t that; or anything like that, for that matter.

His mouth opened and closed aimlessly for several moments as he tried to think of an intelligible response to say without stuttering profusely. Paired with the way his skin and clothes were still miserably damp, he was a literal fish out of water. Jack stared at him expectantly, but he couldn't form a single thought. He couldn't even think above his growing thunderstorm.

Then Race’s voice piped up behind them. “Hey, lovebirds, we should try that again! I think if we—”

“No!” David abruptly interrupted. He breathed, deep and long. “I’m—I’m sorry, no. Absolutely not. Your Highness, we’re going back to the castle now.”

Race and Crutchie exchanged confused glances and frowns, clearly not understanding the snapshot of the royal life, while Jack groaned like a child told to go to bed.

“But Dave—”

“Now, Your Highness.” David restated firmly. Jack wanted to argue further, finger up and mouth open to give a rebuttal, but ultimately caved. Reluctantly he sighed, nodded, and began the hike back to their horses, David following in his footsteps.

The ride back to the castle was silent, save for the clopping of horse hooves and rustling of the nature awakening. Mercifully, the two were able to sneak in and change out of their damp clothes with minimal notice before beginning their day’s tasks and responsibilities. More developments for the wedding, contract work, and things to oversee.

David pretended to not notice the lack of the usual playful gleam in Jack’s eyes.

With such a violent morning, the day felt extraordinarily long. By noon, David wanted to go to sleep, his eyes drooping throughout an appointment. He tried to hold it together, nodding and smiling his practiced professional smile, but couldn't help the fuzz that wrapping around his mind.

Later that evening, when David was alone in his room, he collapsed onto his bed, shoving his face into his pillow. He let out a long, anguished, and frustrated scream.

Chapter Text

“Do you think that in some sort of alternate world, you and I could be together?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh come on, Kath,” Jack whined as they traversed down a long castle hallway. “You’re saying you wouldn’t even give me a chance? Just one chance? Not even a kiss?”

Katherine rolled her eyes. “I already have to kiss you in a couple of months in front of a crowd, Jack. That alone is humiliating. It's as much of a chance as you’re getting”

“You’ll enjoy it, I’m sure” He waggled his eyebrows. When she faux-gagged in response, he gave a melodramatic gasp. “Rude! I’ll have you know, many other people would do anything just to have my attention. Consider yourself lucky!”

She groaned, tucking a copper curl behind her ear. “If they actually got to know you, however, they’d run in the opposite direction screaming.”

On that warm afternoon, Jack and Katherine were roaming around Jack's castle, aimlessly chatting as they waited for a messenger to tell them that their presence was required in the meeting room. Another meeting occurred that day, and after ten minutes the prince and princess were yet again excused as the king and queen discussed finer details that they “surely wouldn’t be that interested in” and “didn’t have to worry about.” Jack wanted to ask why they thought he wouldn’t be interested in a discussion about his future, but he managed to hold his tongue. And thank goodness he did, because he might've been kicked out of his kingdom if he used the words circulating in his head.

Instead, it was insisted that they go for a walk and chat, to “sweet talk." They were by no means interested in sweet talking, not in the slightest. So instead, the two aimlessly conversed as they went hallway to hallway. Behind them trailed David and Katherine’s own lady-in-waiting, a young woman with raven black hair secured in a ponytail who either didn’t listen in on their negative talk or simply didn’t care.

“I can be nice when I want to be. I just don’t do it to you,” Jack counters, something sly twisting his lips.

“Such a gentleman,” Katherine chuckled, short and dry. “Do you talk like that to your delegates? When announcing decrees? Must win them over every time.”

Jack waved his hand with a scoff, as if it was an obvious question with an obvious answer. “All the time.” He glanced over at her with a grin, only to be met with a groan as she looked the other way. A laugh rumbles out of him, genuine and loud.

For a brief moment, he's thankful that out of any princess from any kingdom he had to marry, it was Katherine. At least with her he could be as close to himself as he could without fear of word travelling to the kingdom. If he expressed his thoughts with any other monarch, he would run the list of being backlisted from every kingdom ever.

Then his eyes drifted out a wide window at the end of the hallway, giving an excellent view of the town below, and Jack's stomach churned. His instinct kicked in, and his mind instantly turned to how he wanted to be out running with the wind. How he wished he was out there, riding horses with Race, painting with Crutchie, or even helping Romeo harvest his garden crops. Anything other than what he was doing right then would be perfect to him, honestly.

In the middle of a dirt path was a group of crows pecking away at trash on the ground, appearing ant-sized from such a great distance. Jack was able to count seven of them through squinted eyes before a little boy stomped up to them, causing all the birds to flutter away.

“Do you ever wish you were free?” The words slipped out of Jack’s mouth before he realized it, and he panicked for a brief moment before remembering who he was talking to.

Katherine eyed him from the side, almost curiously. Then, she too gazed out the grand window, as if trying to follow his thought process. “Are you thinking of being out there?”

For a moment, he hesitated, a breath stalling in his throat. When his words came out, they were slow and rather unsure. “Kinda? I don’t know, I mean, I’m always wishing I’m out there.” They felt weird to speak out loud.

“What do you do out there?”

Her abrupt interest surprised Jack, and he looked over at her with his eyebrows raised. In contrast, her expression was neutral and rather calm.

“What do you mean?” He questioned, suddenly acutely aware of how anyone around could hear them if he wasn’t careful. Part of him wanted to gaze around, but that would be a bit too obvious.

“Like, when you escape,” To her credit, her volume did lower as she broached the subject. She shrugged, and even that movement was graceful. “When you’re out there. What do you do? What’s it like?”

It feels like freedom, Jack wanted to say, but he kept the words chained in his throat. When he was outside of the castle, going wherever his heart led, the feeling was incomparable. He was unbound from the shackles his “prince” title kept him in, free to do what he wanted and not have to recall the much too long list of royal rules. Though, if he was being honest, he could barely remember them anyway.

Not only that, but he also got to see life in the perspective of his people, to view issues in a way that he never could from the confines of his ivory tower. All sides of the argument became clear, and he could connect the lines with much more ease. Being a prince in a castle won't help him understand a village water problem, but perhaps seeing it in person would. Then he could rally for it, help those less fortunate get what they need to survive.

To him, there wasn’t just one word to describe it.

“It feels nice,” Jack finally decided to say. While it was an understatement, it wasn’t all that wrong. His gaze trailed back out the window, following a red-clad food merchant handing out samples to passerby. Once he visited that merchant, and with a hood hanging low over his face, he was no longer His Royal Highness, Prince Jack Larkin, but just another customer. Another person. “Like I’m just following my own accord.”

Katherine nodded, letting out a soft breath. “That must be nice.”

“Something wrong?” Jack was quick to catch on to her mood switch.

“No, nothing wrong,” She breathed out. “I just wish I could do that.”

Jack felt a pang in his stomach, a sensation that rippled throughout his core. Back when he was sneaking out for the first couple of times, he was paranoid of anything and everything. What if he was recognized? What if he got lost? What if he got attacked? What if Medda found out? However, whenever something went awry (which was most of the time), he had David. Katherine didn’t have anyone like that. If anything went wrong for her, she would be in trouble—a lot more trouble than Jack ever would be if he was found out.

He tried to lift their spirits. “You sayin’ you’re too chicken to try? The Katherine Pulitzer, a chicken?”

To his credit, she gave a light laugh and a small smile. “No way, Kelly. I would, trust me, but I’d be way too paranoid. If I'm anything but a perfect princess, my father would throw a hissy fit.”

“I’d enjoy seeing him throw a hissy fit.”

“Jack.”

“Just saying!”

“My point is,” Katherine said pointedly as they rounded a corner and entered a room, Jack leading the way. “I do wish I was free sometimes, but life isn’t always that easy.” She glanced down at the floor briefly, then added on in a breathy whisper: “Besides, any royal who enjoys every single day of their life is crazy.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Jack mumbled with a nod, deciding not to dwell on the saddening subject for much longer. Instead, he looked around the room, having chosen it for a reason—it was one of the castle’s many sewing rooms. He chose it because he had a hunch on who would be there, and it was somebody he wanted to see.

In the back of the room, illuminated by a tall window, was Sarah. She was sewing together the seam of a light blue gown, so deeply immersed in her work that she didn’t even notice their entrance. However, when Jack cleared his throat, she looked up, grinning when she saw them.

“Well good afternoon, Your Highness,” Sarah grinned humorously as Jack approached her, putting an exaggerated emphasis on his title.

When he was close enough, he reached out and ruffled her hair with a hand. She retaliated by shoving him in his side, not hard enough to hurt him but enough to make him stumble, all the while quietly chuckling and still grinning. Behind them, David managed a strained ‘Sarah!’, but it went unnoticed.

“What brings the prince to these humble quarters of the castle?” She faked a grandiose announcer type voice, raising an eyebrow.

Jack shrugged, making a non-committal noise. “Katherine and I were sent away to roam by our folks so they can talk, so now we’re just going around. You two have met before, right?” He vaguely gestures between the two of them, gaze moving from woman to woman.

“We have,” Katherine responded rather hastily. “A couple of weeks ago at the first meeting, correct?”

Sarah seemed to be a bit taken aback, but recovered swiftly and nodded. “Yes, Your Highness. Lovely to see you again.” She smiled politely, and Jack snorted at the sudden change of attitude when a monarch other than him began talking.

“What an one-eighty,” Jack murmurs amusedly.

The moment Sarah looks back at him, all evidence of being courteous or respectful vanished. In fact, she glared at him in an almost challenging manner. “I’m nice to most royals, Jack, just not you.”

Reactions erupted among them; Jack gasped melodramatically with a hand on his chest and a ghost of a smile, David cringed and whisper-yelled his sister’s name in frustration, while Katherine burst out laughing. Thankfully nobody else was in the room, because if there were spectators, they would think the prince, princess, and their servants had lost their minds.

Katherine’s head tilted back as she laughed loudly, hand hovering over her mouth. “Now where have I heard that one before?” She said with a note of sarcasm, giving Jack a sidelong glance.

Jack crossed his arms, trying to force down the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Never met someone other than me who can humble Jack like that. I like you,” Katherine pointed at Sarah with a wide grin. When the last part left her mouth, she faltered for a bit, realizing how it sounds coming from a princess to a lady-in-waiting. Jack did not fail to pick up on all of this, eyebrows shooting up but remaining silent.

However, Sarah thankfully took it in stride, returning the grin and nodding. “Why thank you, Your Highness. Anyone who enjoys annoying Jack is a friend of mine.”

“Excuse me—?”

“Just Katherine is fine. I hear that title enough during the day,” Katherine’s smile turned genuine, and Jack noted how something glinted in Sarah's eyes. “Nice to be friends, Sarah.”

Jack watched their interaction from the sidelines, unable to decide if he was shocked or not. He was about to interject with a sarcastic comment of some sorts—but before he could, the sound of the door opening and shuffling grabbed all five’s attention.

There were two people now at the room’s entrance, seemingly unaware of the other’s existence as they chatted amongst themselves. Jack pinned them as staff employed somewhere in the clothing department, either dressmakers or stylists. Notepads, pencils, and measuring tapes were balanced in their hands. Their obliviousness to the other five’s presence ended when one looked up and let out a surprised exclamation upon seeing them, notably Jack.

“Your Highnesses, hello,” The taller of the two staff greeted on both their behalf, but both of them bowed. Jack, all of a sudden incredibly stiff, gave a slight wave. After a moment of hesitation, they continued. “Prince Jack, are you free? Would you mind coming with us for a few moments? We need to take new measurements.”

“Yes, it’s been a while since we last measured you and we want to be sure we’re designing accurately,” The other agreed, eagerly nodding.

Jack internally groaned, just barely managing to keep it together on the outside. Quite frankly, that was the last thing he wanted to do. Here he was having fun with his only friends in the castle, and then came his prince duties to take it away. He was just about to glance over at David and silently beg for an excuse to get him out of it, but then he caught a glimpse of Sarah gazing at Katherine’s backside, and, well.

Who was he but a man of opportunity?

He bit back a grin, politely nodding and giving his trademark prince smile. “Of course I can, no worries,” As he walked over to the two staff—of whom were now especially happy—he threw a wink in the girls’ general direction, swallowing a laugh when both of them caught it and each gave him a dirty glare.

Quick to follow after Jack was David, scribbling something on the scroll in his hands as he moved like it was second nature. Jack watched him with a bit of a fond look, an unconscious smile pulling up on his lips.

A one-liner popped into his head, and he couldn’t resist. “Eager to follow me now, Davey?”

David’s head snapped up to look at Jack, a slightly startled expression across his features. He tried to say something, but couldn’t think of a sensible response. So instead, he cleared his throat and went back to writing.

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t leave you like that Dave,” Jack continued, grin turning somewhat smug. The other desperately tried to ignore it, keeping his nose buried in his scroll. Just before Jack could say anything else, the staff members spoke up.

“Your Highness? Come with us, please,” One of them asked, tone almost feeble. Jack threw one last glance at David before nodding, and heading off with the staff to a separate room, with the other in close tow.

Once they were alone, the two girls broke into hesitant, light laughter. They exchanged glances, smiles close to shy.

“Are they always like that?” Katherine questioned, taking a moment to carry a spare stool over and taking a seat. Her powder blue gown fanned out like a wave.

Sarah chuckled, threading her needle once more to finish sealing the dress’s seam. “You have no idea. My brother is the most oblivious person you’ll ever meet.”

The princess smoothed her hands down her bodice, an unconscious habit after years of needing to always look prim and perfect, eyes meeting Sarah’s. “Oblivious, you say?”

One stitch, two stitches. “Jack talks like that all the time around him, but David insists that there’s nothing there. Everyone can see it but him,” Three stitches, four stitches. “Seriously, it’s been since we’ve started working for the royal family.”

“How long have you been working for the royal family?” Katherine diverted the conversation. It wasn’t entirely intentional, but she also knew what she was doing. As riveting as her future husband and his valet’s love story was, she was more interested in the fair girl in front of her.

“Oh, gods, I don’t know,” Sarah blew out a heavy breath, lips sputtering. “Do you mean working in the castle generally, or with the royal family directly?”

“Why not both?”

Sarah’s hand moved absently as she recalled, stitching through the luxurious fabric with a practiced, flowing ease. “Well, my family has worked in and around the castle for generations. My grandmother knew Her Majesty when she was just a young princess. My first job was on the garden staff with my Mama, specifically trimming up the plants.”

Katherine smiled. “You do seem like the type to have a green thumb.”

“I liked it a lot, I would cut the shrubs into fun shapes like hearts and triangles,” Sarah reached the end of the seam, and secured her thread in place by knotting it, hands moving nimbly. “We had connections, so I took odd favours on the side, like helping the kitchen staff when they were backed up. Worked my way up the chain to more important titles, even growing my own plants for galas. When Her Majesty was crowned, her old lady-in-waiting couldn’t serve her anymore, and I was one of the candidates for her new one. I was chosen by the queen herself, and have been working as her lady-in-waiting ever since.”

For the entire time Sarah spoke, Katherine watched and listened quietly, all of her attention on the words coming out of her mouth. Something about the way her lips curled up into an unconscious smile as she thought about her memories, and how her eyes glistened with a certain fondness for what she did had her feeling some sort of way.

Sarah looked back over at the princess, and in an instant she came crashing back to reality, yanked out of her slight daze. “Ugh, I was rambling, wasn’t I? It’s a bad habit of mine. Apologies, Your Highne— Katherine. Sorry.”

The princess couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her throat, light and airy and surprisingly genuine. “No, don’t apologize, I like it. You have no idea how many people filter whatever they say to me, and how heavy they filter it. It’s like they think I’ll behead them if they curse in front of me or something.”

“You have the power to do that?” Sarah put away her needle.

“I’d have to run it through my father first,” Katherine cracked a half smile. “So it would depend on how convincing I am. But while Queen Medda sounds lovely, I cannot say my father is the same.” She rolled her eyes, waving a hand that was both dismissive and flair-ish. Maybe she shouldn't be saying this, but Sarah was easy to talk to. It felt natural, it felt right.

“What do you mean?” Sarah cocked an eyebrow, lips pursing in slight confusion.

“He’s just,” Katherine shrugged, curls dancing around her face with the movement. “I don’t know. He doesn’t have a good reputation among our citizens, and isn’t the kindest to those around him. But we have advisors that only let the good news about him travel outside the kingdom walls.”

“Does that mean I’m hearing forbidden information?” Her tone was light and joking, but a bit of terror arose in her tone at hearing something she wasn’t supposed to—especially about a powerful king.

The other shook her head. “Not really, considering it's known among the people. It just feels like I barely know my own father anymore. Lately he’s been leaving to attend secret meetings with men I’ve never seen before. He won’t even let me listen in on them."

“Maybe it’s something he doesn’t want you to worry about?” Sarah suggested, unsure.

“I’d still appreciate some sort of information about it. I hate not knowing about things when I should,” Katherine slumped a little.

Sarah finished levelling out the dress on the mannequin, pressing away wrinkles in the fabric. In no way could she relate to having a secretive kingly father, but still tried to sympathize with her anyway, casting her a sympathetic look. She began to debate saying something encouraging, something about how she’ll know soon, but the door creaked open again before she could.

At the door was a person dressed cleanly enough to be a castle staff, but neither girl recognized them. They cleared their throat before speaking. “Your Highness, your presence is required back in the meeting room with Queen Medda and King Joseph. Miss Jacobs, you may come along if you can.”

A messenger, she supposed. With all of the elegance in the world, Katherine rose from her seat, dusted off her dress, neatly fixed her hair, straightened her tiara and headed out to the meeting room.

The way she did it left Sarah feeling a little mesmerized. The same could be said for the messenger, as a soft, starstruck smile graced their face at the princess’s grace. Sarah fixed them with a dirty glare when they turned around.

Then, she followed.

---

They had been in the room for less than ten minutes, and Jack and Joseph were already arguing.

Each of them had risen from their seats in anger, glaring arrows of fire at each other from their respective spots. Jack was more visibly infuriated, eyes narrowing and words coming out red hot. On the other hand, Joseph was eerily calm, voice seldomly raising and speaking cherry-picked words with razor sharp edges. Both were completely oblivious and ignorant of the women at their sides, begging for them to stop.

It began shortly after Jack arrived back from his wanderings with Katherine. Much to his dismay, Joseph decided to initiate a conversation with him. Yet again, Jack insisted that he was thrilled to be marrying Katherine (a lie) and how the unification of their kingdoms is great because it will help their people (a truth). However, the king then mentioned his ideas of how to further help their people after their kingdom merge, and the prince didn’t completely agree. What began as voicing his own opinion transitioned into a heated discussion with less-than-friendly words.

“All I’m saying is that we should put the needs of the citizens first,” Jack repeated for what felt like the nth time, tone ever so passive aggressive. “Especially the poorer areas. With some effort, we can improve the quality of life across all of our territory.”

Maybe Jack was biased, having friends from those poorer areas and all. But was it so bad to want to help the less fortunate? It wasn't like he was the bad guy here, right?

Joseph had his arms neatly folded behind his back, prim and proper as ever. “How do you know they want help? Those citizens are independent, and deserve more credit than what you give them. My suggestions would better enhance other aspects that would help them in the long run.”

An image of the fallen log Jack saw while with Race flashed in his mind, only furthering his will to counter back. “They may be independent, but that doesn't mean we should just leave them to fend for themselves entirely. There are parts of the lower kingdom that could use some serious assistance.”

“And just how do you know that?” Joseph raised an eyebrow. Jack remained silent, not willing to reveal his early mornings and late nights of disobedience to a king’s face, but still glowered at him. After several moments of silence, he nodded. “See? You don't even know. Following that would lead to a fruitless end. I’m just saying what would be the best for the interests of our kingdoms.”

“Have you seen the lower parts of our kingdom? Your kingdom? Have you talked to the people who live there?” Jack challenged.

“I have seen them in my own kingdom in great depth. They are strong enough to survive on their own,” Joseph replied. “And while I’ve only seen glimpses here, I can make wise conclusions and conduct further research. They will be fine if we focus on the areas I suggested instead.”

The methods Joseph suggested to help out their joined kingdoms were areas that, in Jack’s opinion, were already flourishing. He suggested putting more funds towards the trade market, to law enforcement on the streets and creating more buildings between the property lines of their kingdoms.

“Our trade market is already thriving with countless products being shipped to and from here, I’ve seen it myself. Not only, but the law enforcers are already at the top of their game without extra funding,” Jack reasoned, voice dripping with bitterness and eyebrows seemingly permanently furrowed. “And we have to protect the environment around our kingdoms, not tear it down.”

“But when our trade markets combine, they’ll need the extra support to stay at adequate levels. And those law enforcers haven’t received any help or attention in several years, nor have either of our kingdoms expanded. It’s time to get with the current,” Joseph rebutted back. He was still calm, like this was a friendly conversation they were having. A condescending smile was on his face, and it made the other’s blood run hotter than hot. Jack wanted him to get angry, to yell in his face. It would make the boiling intensity within him feel justified.

The poorer parts of the kingdom also haven’t received help or attention in several years, Jack wanted to say, but bit his tongue as he knew the response would be a convoluted claim how the law enforcement was somehow more important and above them. They'd been talking in circles.

“My Papa always put our kingdom’s people first, prioritizing their needs and interests,” Jack finally said after a moment of contemplation. It was extremely rare that he brought up his late father, due to the topic being difficult for him to talk about—but right then, he was determined to prove his point. He had always wanted to be like his dad. “And by doing that—”

“And that’s why this kingdom has failed in the past years! The peasants will be fine on their own, we should instead focus on what I suggested for a prosperous future.” Joseph boldly claimed.

It felt like something inside Jack exploded.

“Are you kidding me?!” He couldn’t help the unfiltered words that flew out of his mouth, his entire face scrunching up in rage. Rationality was beyond him now. “Our kingdom has not failed in the past years. It’s always been prosperous, Ya Majesty. Your narrow minded self just can’t see that from your high throne.”

“Excuse me?” Though he managed to keep some of his cool, Joseph’s expression faded into shock.

That's right, Jack thought, a little deliriously. Get mad. Get furious.

Medda’s voice briefly rang out, wary as ever. “Jack…”

But he didn’t hear it. “It’s one thing for you to voice what you want for my kingdom, Joe. But to stoop this low, insulting our people? And my father? Even for you, that’s sad.” Jack sneered.

“Should it not be our kingdom, due to our future unification? I’m only looking out for our land,” Joseph’s voice raised a bit, not enough to reveal any frustrations, but enough to make a strong point. “I did not insult anybody. I only spoke the truth.”

“Yeah, the truth, sayin' this kingdom failed because'a what my fatha' did,” Jack rolled his eyes.

“What about the economic crash that occurred about a decade or so ago? How crime rates were reported to be up thirty five percent than the previous years? And your sudden trade pause for five years? All while he was in power,” The king had a supercilious look on his face as he talked, and it made Jack’s hands unconsciously curl into fists.

“That doesn’t mean it was all his fault,” His chest was encompassed with a feeling that was searing hot and red, red, red. “And it sure as hell doesn't mean alla' that happened 'cause of his decision to view his subjects as people.”

“It could have been a contributing factor.”

“But it wasn’t.”

“How do you know? Have you asked him?” Joseph tilted his head in question. Several gasps echoed out at that, but the man only used it as fuel to venture further. “As royals, we’ll go down in history. Don’t go down the wrong side.”

Jack’s entire body was tense, and his hands began to tremble from how tightly his fists were clenched. His fists desired a destination. He was ready to walk over there and do something he may or may not regret—what stopped him, though, was a gentle but rushed hand flying to his shoulder. When he looked behind him and saw David looking back with an alarmed expression, eyebrows raised to his hairline, he sucked in a heavy breath. Unsteadily, he swallowed and focused his anger into his iron-grip fists.

Multiple minutes of silence passed after that, the tense atmosphere palpable and unbearable. During which, the king and the prince exchanged dirty glares, and fired even more scornful gazes when the other wasn’t looking.

After that, the meeting came to an incredibly strained and abrupt close. Medda tried to speak positively about how they made progress and would only go up from there, but it was in vain. Joseph didn’t hesitate for a second to get up and leave the moment he could, Katherine sheepishly following suit after giving Jack a sympathetic gaze. They were escorted out by their usual group of guards dressed in red.

Joseph didn’t speak a word, holding his head high with pride as he strided out to the front of the castle, where a horse-led carriage was waiting. He stepped in first, followed by Katherine, who kept her eyes cast downwards.

Many minutes of silence (save for the clopping of horse hooves) passed in the carriage, the king gazing out a window and the princess staring at the floor in an ever so edgy silence. It was Katherine who decided to speak first, her heart ready to leap out with her words.

“Father, don’t you think you were a little hard on Jack back there?” Katherine finally managed.

A beat. “What was that?”

“I just think, maybe you could’ve heard him out a bit better,” Katherine kept her eyes glued to her satiny skirt. “And perhaps have chosen your words a bit more carefully. This marriage and union is hard on all of us, he was probably just stressed.”

He didn’t respond at first, instead keeping his eyes fixated out the window as familiar sights of the wooded area just outside their kingdom came into view. Just when she presumed he wouldn’t respond at all—a tactic he often used to avoid undesirable questions—he spoke up.

“Precisely, darling,” His voice didn’t give anything away, near flat and even. It made her hesitantly raise her eyes. “The boy is too stressed. His head is much too cloudy to be making such decisions, or to see that mine were optimal.”

“That’s—that's not what I meant, father, I—” She wanted to correct him, desperately. But if the past half hour was any indication, he would continue insisting he was correct until one of their vocal chords gave out. So she swallowed, sighed, and redirected. “Must Jack and I get married?”

He turned his head slightly, just enough to side-eye her with a raised eyebrow. “Are you against it?”

“No, of course not," She lied through her teeth.

“Then what seems to be the problem?” Joseph asked, placing his hands in his lap. “You do know that both of our kingdoms are in the top five largest in the country, even higher when it comes to the wealthiest and most populous?”

“Yes, father.”

“And you do know that both you and Prince Jack are the sole heirs to the throne?”

“Yes, father.”

“So then you must know that by uniting with their kingdom, we will be wealthy, powerful, and prosperous for years to come?” His tone was expectant and authoritative, and it made something in the princess’s stomach twist.

Katherine nodded for the third time. “Yes, father, I know that well. I’m just wondering if marriage is the best way to go about all of this.” The outskirts of their kingdom rolled by outside the window. “Why can’t we simply form a union with them normally? Combine our resources without this whole wedding business.”

“A wedding will form a special, unbreakable bond between our two kingdoms. And as I mentioned, both of you are sole heirs,” Joseph began to reposition himself closer to the door as they got closer to the castle. “It also solves the problem of you having to rule alone.”

Something burned in Katherine’s chest. “I would be able to rule on my own, father.”

“Maybe you won’t, maybe you will,” He shrugged dismissively, like it was something barely worth his time. “But I as king believe that this is the best decision for both of our kingdoms.”

How she hated when he pulled the king card. To him, it was an end all. Because I'm the king, and I said so. It made something bitter boil in her stomach. Despite that, she kept her mouth shut. Polite princesses never spoke when it was unwarranted or unwanted.

Eventually they arrived back at their castle, and before Katherine could even bid him farewell, Joseph was up and away. He walked briskly out of the carriage, through the front courtyard and into the castle. Down the hallways, through rooms and passageways. Staff making their daily rounds bowed and gave greetings when he passed, but he hardly acknowledged them outside of a barely there nod.

The further he went, the less staff there were around. On and on he went until he reached an area in the back of the castle, one with less windows and scarce people. He knocked three times on a door near the end of a hallway. It creaked open a smidge, the silhouette of a person vaguely visible, until it opened just enough for the king to step through, the door shutting behind him.

“You said you wanted to talk.” The one who opened the door said brusquely, wasting no time beating around the bush. There was only one light source in the room, a singular torch mounted on a side wall, bathing them in a flickering orange glow.

“Indeed. You have taken up my offer, correct?” Joseph questioned, keeping his tone just as firm and confident. King-like.

A grunt. Then, a second voice. “Maybe. But you better not be lying about that reward you were talking about.”

“Yeah,” The first person spoke again. “We aren’t gonna bust our backs for you if you aren’t gonna keep your word, king or no king.”

Joseph tutted. “Boys, trust me, the reward is very real. Think about it, never working a day in your life ever again, being able to retire comfortably with no struggles or worries,” He paused, letting his words soak in. One, two, three beats. “If you accept my offer, that is.”

Silence. It was obvious that the two people were thinking, thinking long and hard.

After a minute or two, the king spoke up again, this time a bit more agitated. “Well? I don’t have all day to stand around waiting. Will you accept?”

Again, silence. There was shuffling, inaudible whispers and brief glances. Finally, after a minute, the first person agreed.

“Alright, we’ll accept your deal,” They said, voice low. The second one gave an ‘Mhm’, flat but quick.

The king gave his royal smile. “Great. I’ll leave you something to sign by your horses. Just as a safety precaution. Lovely seeing you two again.” He nodded to them, then left the room just as swift and quiet as he came.

Joseph liked to think of life as a puzzle. Intricate and detailed, difficult and confusing. You have to be on top collecting your pieces and work hard putting them together, or you’ll be stuck forever in one spot. Some were forever searching for their one piece that would complete them, others wondering where to even start. People like Prince Jack. It was rather pitiful. Perhaps even Joseph himself had been like that, once upon a time.

But right then, he was confident that all of his pieces were falling right into place.

Chapter Text

Jack was in trouble.

It was barely noon, but he was already chest deep in hot water, and closer to drowning than escaping.

That morning, he was supposed to attend a rather pressing meeting with delegates from nearby kingdoms, representing his own kingdom in Medda’s absence—and missed it. Overslept. When he woke up, he realized the sun was suspiciously bright for the time he thought it was. By the time he got ready and sprinted down to the meeting room, everyone had left.

The meeting was meant to be a discussion about a newly found resource, a debate on how they should distribute and trade it. And while Jack could try to compensate later with formal letters to the envoys, it would still take a nasty hit on both his kingdom's and his own reputation. He could practically hear the rumours in his head already, a sly sound that mocked him: “What kind of royal just doesn’t show up to a meeting in their own castle?” And, “If he didn’t attend, does he really care?”

As he trudged away from the desolate, designated meeting room, any staff who saw his hunched figure fixed him with pitiful looks that made his cheeks burn (with anger or shame, he couldn't tell). One had even shook their head, and he had to clench his fists to keep from whirling on them. David had reminded him of the meeting at least several times during the week prior, saying how it was significant, that they needed to get involved in this new trade. Jack didn’t even want to know what he’d have to say about his absence.

Aside from the wasted meeting, nothing of immediate importance was on his schedule—horsemanship lessons could wait, and he only had to be seen for other trivial things later that evening—so he went back to his grandiose room, locked the door and allowed himself to be alone and cool down, though he didn't know how well he could pull that off.

He laid back on his bed, eyes skyward, and let out a long sigh. Everything around him was so incredibly lavish. Even the ceiling had fascinating carvings, emblazoned with silver and dizzying in its complexity. All because of his title, the title that he could barely keep.

Jack couldn’t decide what he wanted anymore. Half of him deeply wanted to reform into a better, more responsible prince, one who didn’t miss important events and could handle issues without wanting to vomit. However, his other half yearned for freedom, wanting to be an adventurer that adhered to their own schedule who’s only worry was figuring out where they’d travel to next. He had spent seventeen long years cooped up in a castle, one with long hallways and dozens of doors per floor. After being trapped that long, his mind was an equally twisty labyrinth. Should he escape, or assimilate?

Following the former lifestyle would please those around him. It would make Medda proud of him, satisfy the staff who questioned his abilities, and assure his subjects that their future king would be one worthwhile. Competent. He wanted to chase after that life desperately, with both hands outstretched, but there was still that voice. A voice that screamed and writhed, that threatened to vomit all over the expensive upholstery if he had to look at it for a moment longer. Following the latter lifestyle would please himself, and perhaps ease his constantly tense heart. But if anyone saw the heir to the throne horse-playing with nobodies, sneaking out, and hating the royal lifestyle—what would they think?

There were plenty of other princes in other kingdoms nearby who weren’t like him, Jack thought. They weren't like him because they were better. Why couldn’t he be like that? Why did he resent this life so much? He closed his eyes and allowed himself to think, recalling his earliest memories of craving reckless adventure.

What came to mind was his Father. The memories made him wince. He forced a slightly shaky breath and let the echoes of their past moments fully come forward, find purchase in his mind.

Childhood memories reeled of Father, ones of stories of wild escapades. More often than not they were fictional, coming from colourfully illustrated storybooks of brave adventurers exploring the vast unknown. Once in a while, though, he would share with Jack a thrilling experience he had in his youth, one that was real. Skipping lessons to go for a invigorating hike and managing to return without too many scratches, slinking out the moment a meeting ends and returning as the sun sets.

Back then, those stories amazed Jack. Tales of adventure, fates, and destinies left him in an astonished trance. Not only could adventures like those happen, but Father lived some of them. Hearing those stories were his favourite part of the day, everyday, and Father always made time for it. I may be a big, important, king, he would whisper lovingly, but I’m also your father, remember that, alright?

That was the closest thing Jack could identify as the start of it all. His father planted a seed, and each story he told nurtured it, helped it grow. Really, how could he help but wonder what more was beyond the castle walls when that was what he was constantly hearing?

Remnants of a smile began to appear on Jack’s face, but then—then. Then the crueler, debilitating memories swept in, slashing their way through his mind.

It was a winter morning. He had just woken up. All of the castle staff were running around frantically, words ranging from inaudible whispers to shrieks. Everyone was talking about the king. When they saw him, they frowned in a painfully sympathetic way, so forced that it made him confused. Medda took him to a separate room to slowly explain what had happened during the night. Treason, he heard people murmur when they thought he couldn't hear. No longer with us. Gone.

Before these thoughts could sour his mood even further, he stood up and violently shook his head, dismissing the thoughts. Now wasn’t the time.

All Jack wanted was to live up to Father’s legacy, to make him proud; he just wasn’t sure how to do that yet. Would he be proud of who he was now? Jack wasn’t sure.

What snapped him out of his rather negative reverie was the sound of the nearby town bell chiming. It rang eleven times, a signal for it being eleven o’clock. Each deep, reverberating thud was in sync with his heart. Jack needed to distract himself before the thoughts came storming back—he didn’t want them to come back. If they did, they would be worse than before.

So after peeking out of his room and making sure the coast was clear, he snatched a cloak from the depths of his closet and stealthily made a dash for one of his secret exits on the side of the castle, not stopping until he was far, far from the royal grounds.

———

If there was one thing in the world that David was good at, it was multitasking. Working in the castle was incredibly fast paced, especially when it came to working with the royal family directly. They were needed for this, had to go view that. After many years, he’d developed the ability to keep up with it all, even if being Jack's valet brought it's own array of surprises.

He strode down the long hallway, easily weaving around and past the people around him. As he did so, he mentally checked boxes off of his to-do list; he had finished sewing up random holes and fixing loose threads on most of Jack’s clothes (seriously, how did he get so many?), briefed and approved of multiple contracts and treaties that he’d pass on to Jack to sign, checked in with some staff around the castle, and even managed to finish a chapter in the novel he was reading. The last one may sound like a small task, but it was surprising how little leisure time you have being the prince’s servant.

The clock was just ticking past 11 AM but David already felt accomplished that morning. Only a handful of things remained on his list, which motivated him to keep going. If he continued at this rate, he’d have some odd hours to spare for free time.

David figured he’d take a quick break, perhaps make a brief pit-stop in the kitchen and snag an apple or an orange to keep his energy up so he could power through the rest of his duties. He rerouted his path to the kitchen and allowed his body to move on autopilot, beginning to mentally comb through the rest of his to-do list.

That new route only lasted for approximately five seconds before he nearly ran into someone and nearly got bowled over.

Both parties let out noises of surprise, stumbling as they thankfully managed to keep their balance. When David shook his mind back to full awareness, head spinning, he glanced over to see who he bumped into. His eyes were met with one of the two head royal dressmakers, of whom was looking more frazzled than not. They carried a thick stack of papers in their hand, and he’s shocked they didn’t drop any of them.

Before he could greet them properly, they began to hastily speak. “David! I am so glad I... ran into you.” They trailed off into polite laughter that was a bit out of breath sounding, but he paid no mind to it (nor how cheesy that pun was).

“Good morning, then. Is there something you need?” David asked, trying to keep his tone light.

For several moments, the dressmaker rapidly flipped through the chunk of papers in their hand, as if they didn’t hear him speak a word. He awkwardly watched various sketches and designs flash by. Suits, dresses, elaborate gowns. Right as he was going to clear his throat and speak again, they looked back up.

“Yes! Yes, there is. If His Highness is free any time today, could you please send him over to my workshop?” Their expression was eager, like a child showing off their artwork to a doting parent. “The first prototype for his wedding suit is finished. We need to make sure the fit is correct, we need his opinion on it, to see how it looks and moves... Among other things, of course.”

A typical request for the valet. So, of course, David agreed. “Of course. I’ll inform him as soon as I can, he’ll be there as soon as he has the chance.” Well, add that to his to-do list.

But as he catalogued it in his mind, his brain came to a screeching halt. He hadn’t seen Jack yet that day.

When he went to wake him up, there was no response to his knocking. It was a less busy Sunday, so he simply figured he was sleeping in or didn’t hear him. Never one to intrude or disturb, David let it be and went on with his own tasks. After all, he had relentlessly reminded him of the important things he had to do that day.

Through his pondering, David heard the dressmaker happily squeal. “Oh, thank you! It’s just that I’ve been searching for His Highness all morning, but I haven’t seen a glimpse of him.”

“Yeah, neither have I,” David muttered under his breath, mostly to himself. His gaze trailed out a window ahead. The polished glass gave a wide look of the town, bursting with people and life under a modest sun. His eyes fixated on the sight. “But I think I have a lead.”

———

Everytime Jack got to explore the kingdom, either on a royal trip or in disguise, he was surprised. By just how lively it was, and how everyone worked together like clockwork.

They were in the marketplace, which was flowing with people coming in, going out, and simply browsing. It was hot outside, to a point where he was sweating under the black cloak he brought to hide in, but the civilians weren’t deterred by that in the slightest. They functioned as per normal, leaving Jack to watch in amazement.

Vendors sat behind their booths lined with trinkets and goods, eagerly offering and advertising their products to anyone who remotely looked their way, insisting it would change their life. Visitors glanced this way and that, twisting around goods, examining how they looked in the sun. Everyone smoothly passed by each other and strode with purpose to get to where they wanted to go, no bumping or pushing needed.

Jack peeked up, making sure to keep the hood covering most of his face, and observed the throng of people flow like a water. People headed to and approaching booths, merchants casually sidling up to their potential customers, coins being passed back and forth. So this was what he was missing when he was locked up in a tower.

After Jack escaped the castle, he snuck his way to the further part of the village where most of his friends resided. There he met up with a lot of them, including Race, Crutchie, Albert, Specs, Romeo and Blink—they were playing some sort of card game when he showed, and apparently Race was winning.

They chatted for a while, jeering and cheering, and eventually all made their way to the marketplace once the game ended. However, they were quick to break off into groups and head off in various directions once they arrived, eyes attracting to different stalls.

He had ended up with Crutchie, and kept a step behind him with his head relatively low. In this position, they were watching a street performer do an act on the side of the walkway. Said street performer brandished a very shiny and very sharp sword to their small crowd as if they were a proud soldier, then, without any hesitation, inserted it deep into their mouth so only the handle passed their lips.

Jack and Crutchie gagged. Violently.

“Eugh. How does he do that?” Jack choked out meekly, imagining the feeling of cold metal against the inside of his throat, scraping the delicate tissue. The thought made him shudder. Around them, the audience gasped and pointed in disbelief.

Crutchie grimaced, pressing his hand to his throat. “No idea. Can you imagine what his insides look like?”

They continued to watch. Revelling in all of the attention, the street performer gently tapped the handle of the sword and even gave it a little nudge. More gasps, and from Jack and Crutchie, more gagging.

Then, like it was the easiest thing in the world, the performer took the sword out of his mouth in one brisk pull. Jack was half expecting it to be covered in blood, guts, and heavens know what else, but it came out perfectly clean. The performer brandished the blade like it was a prized trophy. Again, the spectators let out shocked noises, whispers of questions echoing amongst them. Some stepped forward and tossed a coin or two into a crate the guy had at his feet.

“That’s not real, is it? I mean, it did look like he had it deep in there, but,” Jack stared with wide eyes, hand lamely gesturing in place of words. “How is he not hurt? Or dead?”

“It has to be a trick or something. Like an illusion, or a trick of the light. I don’t know. All I do know is that my throat suddenly hurts,” Crutchie furrowed his eyebrows as he watched the performer graciously bow and accept donations, sword now hung on his belt.

Regardless of street performers that may or may not fake their tricks, Jack felt a warm fevrent feeling pass through him. He loved the hustle and bustle of his kingdom, melodramatics included. It was so genuine, the way everything and everyone simply buzzed. Unsurprisingly, being a prince took up a lot of his time, meaning this wasn't something he saw often. Besides, he normally snuck out when everything was dead to avoid being caught. The last thing he needed was for a pedestrian to notice him and freak out.

There were also his official day trips to the town, but not only were those only semiannual, but he was practically sandwiched by guards the entire time. If a person even looked at him wrong, a guard would be on them with a weapon at the ready. More than once he’s had to pull a guard off of someone innocent, wheezing at them to stand down. Not to mention how everyone was exhaustingly formal, with not-so-discreet staring, bowing and high pitched Your Highness-es.

But this? Jack loved this. Not being singled out, just immersing himself in their lifestyle and being one with the villagers. No guards against his shoulders and performing intense checks for all of the food and items offered to him (seriously, did they think everyone wanted to assassinate him?), instead doing what he wanted without much hesitance or fear.

The joyous energy was palpable, and he loved it.

What dragged him out of his thoughts was the feeling of a tug at the hem of his cloak. He glanced down and was met with the sight of a tiny girl, around 7 years old if he had to guess, looking up at him with the biggest and most adorable doe eyes he had ever seen. His heart melted.

“Sir?” She spoke timidly. “Do you have any food you can spare? I haven’t eaten today, I’m hungry.”

A soft spot in Jack’s heart; young kids. That spot pulsed, throbbed.

“Jack...” Crutchie warily said from the side, slowly raising an eyebrow. No mind was paid to his caution, though, as Jack crouched down to match the little girl’s height.

He smiled kindly at her, and stuck out his hand. “What’s your name, little girl?”

She eyed him questioningly, as if debating whether to tell him or not. Jack didn’t falter, keeping up his smile and outstretched hand without wavering. After several moments, she gingerly put her small hand in his. “Belle.” She said simply.

They shook hands. “I’m Jack.” He replied, only realizing after the word left his lips that he shouldn’t be revealing his identity so plainly. His face blanched.

However, either it didn’t click in the girl’s mind that she was talking to the kingdom’s crowned prince, or it did and she didn’t point it out. Either way, she remained quiet. A brief wave of relief washed through Jack before he redirected. “You’re hungry? Do you not have access to food?”

Belle shook her head. “No. Since Mama went away, it’s been harder to find any. People are mean when you try to get some.”

“Your Mama went away?” Jack frowned, feeling a flash of grief despite not ever knowing the woman. Now, he may not be the brightest prince ever, but he knew what ‘went away’ really meant. She nodded. “I’m sorry. Of course I have some food for you, here you go.”

He reached under his cloak into a satchel he wore around his torso and pulled out a large cluster of purple grapes wrapped in parchment paper, offering it forward. He had gotten it from a stall a bit ago (or, Crutchie had gotten it for him using his coin), and they were still fresh and damp.

When the girl peered at it tentatively, Jack encouraged her. “It’s okay, you can have it. They’re fine, see?” He plucked off a single grape and popped it in his mouth, chewing and eventually swallowing.

She cautiously reached out to the bundle, like he was going to snatch it back and laugh in her face. But he didn’t, of course he didn’t, so soon she took the grapes and held it close to her chest. Her expression was shocked, almost as if she didn’t actually think he’d give her anything. Then, after a second more, she gave Jack a big toothy grin.

“Thank you sir! Thank you so much! I can’t wait to show Papa!” Belle enthusiastically exclaimed, jumping in place before bounding away in big strides into the mass of people until he couldn’t see her anymore.

Jack stood back up and adjusted his hood, still smiling in the direction she went off in. He didn’t stop smiling until Crutchie spoke up again.

“That was cute,” He said, with no emotion that indicated he actually found it cute. “I can’t believe you did that.”

The prince turned to him, tilting his head in confusion. “What do you mean? I just gave her some food, she was practically starvin’.”

“Jackie, you know I love you like a brother, right?”

Jack nodded.

“So you know I mean this lovingly: you’re stupid. You shouldn’t have done that,” Crutchie deadpanned.

“Why not?” Jack scoffed, not even bothering with the fact that he called him stupid. It was something he was used to around his friends. “It was just a cute lil’ girl asking for some food, it ain’t like I signed off my soul.”

“Beggars like that are all around us, especially in the marketplace. They’re either lyin’, or will tell others of your deeds until you’re swarmed with big eyed hungry children like seagulls,” Crutchie pulled a face. “Trust me, I know. Never again.”

Jack made a non-commital noise, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. Frankly, he was just glad that the girl wasn’t hungry further, lying or not. At least she had more food now, right? Thanks to him, it was one less day she had to worry about where her next meal would come from, and that filled him with a warm feeling that made it worth it.

Crutchie tutted. “You’re too charitable for ya own good, Jackie.”

“Well a’least she won’t be hungry no more,” Jack said, his accent slipping out. It came out the longer he spent with his townie friends. He made a mental note to fix his tongue before he went back.

The other was going to say something back, likely a quip paired with a fond roll of the eyes, but a frantic yell from the opposite side of the crowd snagged their attention first.

“Loose horse!”

Wait, what?

The sound of frenzied clopping filled the air, and underneath it were shouts of surprise and shuffling as bodies dived to the side of the road. Jack snapped his neck to the side, and saw a tall and bulky horse stampeding directly at him. Big and black, a stormcloud ready to strike.

Before Jack could shake his senses back to life and bolt, a hand grabbed his and yanked him out of the way. Just in time too—the horse stormed by milliseconds later, over Jack’s footprints in the dirt, leaving a dust cloud in its wake. Several people chased after it, stumbling and shouting.

Jack’s head was still cast off to the side, where the horse used to be. He fully expected to look back up and see Crutchie with an annoyed expression. He could hear his words already—did he seriously not have any instinct? Was he looking to die? A sarcastic reply was building on his tongue, word by word, but when he looked back up, it wasn’t Crutchie he saw.

It was David.

At that moment, Jack realized just how close they were. They were pressed chest to chest, faces only inches apart, and Jack was leaning back slightly as if he was being dipped for a dance. After another moment, Jack registered just how fast his heart was beating.

It took a moment to swallow away the sudden dryness in his throat, but he quickly cleared his throat, adopted a suave expression and quipped. “Well well, sweep me off my feet, why don’t ya?”

David’s eyes widened a little, and though he managed to keep most of his blush at bay, a small splattering of red appeared on his cheeks. He was quick to look away and remove his hands, making a point to take a step back.

“My knight in shining armour, how charming you are,” Jack chuckled, his infamous grin plastered on his face. David crossed his arms, not looking at him.

Watching them from the side, Crutchie gagged, pointing at his mouth for emphasis. Jack shot him a glare.

David took in a deep breath, then glanced back up at Jack. “You’re needed back at the castle, Your Highness.”

A flash of panic struck Jack, as he worried if he somehow found out about that morning. He hid his emotions under a thick blanket of charm. “Aw, really? You sure I can’t stay longer, Dave?”

“No.”

“Please? Crutch and I were just about to go see the other booths, maybe you could come with—”

“No. And no thank you.”

“Pleaaase?”

“No,” David sighed, clearly used to going back and forth with him like this. “Castle, Your Highness. Now.”

Jack opened his mouth to protest again, but clicked it back shut when he realized it wouldn’t get him anywhere. Instead he shrugged. “I guess you’re just excited to have me all to yourself.”

That made David splutter, half words coming out for a couple of seconds until he stopped himself and glared off to the side once more. The prince laughed at his success.

From the side, Crutchie was gagging yet again, hand dramatically in front of his mouth. “You guys are so sickening, utterly sickening. I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“Oh, be quiet, Crutch.”

After saying their goodbyes (whilst ignoring David's tapping foot), David dragged Jack away back to the castle. It came into view, and he groaned. The consequences of what happened that morning were surely going to kick him in the ass as soon as he stepped foot back in there.

For the moment, he chose not to worry about it. On the walk back, he listened to David reprimand him for not only sneaking off into the village, but standing in the way of a stampeding horse, because, seriously, what was he thinking?

Instead of answering the questions, he shot back cheesy one-liners that made him very flustered despite how he tried to hide it. I was thinking of you, Dave, obviously. The sound of his voice almost brought back his good mood.

Soon enough, they were back at the castle, and Jack’s royal life and expectations started back up full force; much to his deep dismay.

Chapter Text

Joseph was late.

The royal meeting had started near ten minutes prior, and his face had yet to be seen. Normally, this would be fine. Perhaps his carriage wheels were a little loose, or his horses were being stubborn. Maybe he simply lost track of the time.

Except they were in his castle.

There were six people dotted along the room; Jack and David, Medda and Sarah, Katherine and her own lady-in-waiting; a redheaded lady with wire glasses that Jack wasn’t all too familiar with—Hannah, if he could remember correctly. That meant they were one person short, and some were taking to the absence more appropriately than others. Medda and Katherine sat with their backs pin straight and wore neutral expressions, waiting with all the patience and elegance in the world. Behind them, their ladies-in-waiting stood prim and proper.

Jack on the other hand was bouncing his leg impatiently with his arms loosely crossed, murmuring foul words in his mind. His back formed a sloppy curve, despite David’s numerous tight-lipped reminders to sit up straight. He had thin patience for as long as he could remember, and this was really putting it to the test.

The impatient prince directed his gaze at various parts of the room—the doors, the curtains, the elaborate foliage—as if each had deeply betrayed him somehow. Something about the room irked him, but he couldn’t quite name what it was.

A tall ceiling yawned overhead, and the walls were lined with long, silky red banners. Windows peered through the edges of the banners, and sunlight rolled in as long rods. The walls and table were old spruce wood, and the only furniture in all the sparsity was a bookshelf in the back.

The colour palette, Jack decided. That’s what was bothering him. Too dark.

He threw glances at the other monarchs perched around him and wondered how they were so patient. Either they were way too tolerant, or he was way too intolerant. He wanted to think it was the former. A suppressed groan rumbled in his throat, low and prickly.

“I need to use the washroom,” Jack stood up suddenly, and everyone else in the room looked at him with varying degrees of surprise. It wasn’t a complete lie, he did have to, but he also just wanted to move. If he had to stay still for a minute longer, he might rip off his legs. “Katherine, can you point me to the closest one?”

“If you go down this hallway and take two rights then a left, there should be one right before the indoor garden,” Katherine explained, gesturing towards the door.

He nodded, etching the directions into his mind. “Thanks, I’ll be right back.”

“Do you want me to show you? These hallways are big,” Katherine offered, smoothing the skirt of her scarlet gown as she stood up.

“No, it’s okay,” Jack raised a hand to stop her, and gave a brief nod in response to David's concerned look. “I’ll find my way.” He bit back a sarcastic comment of being able to use the washroom all by himself, reminding himself just where he was.

“Hurry back, dear,” Medda spoke with warmth. “King Joseph may return soon,”

Yeah, right.

“Of course, Mama,” Jack smiled at her before leaving his seat and heading to the door.

Minutes later, he was lost.

Was it really his fault when every hallway looked the exact same? Repeats of red carpet and sheer red curtains and golden tables and benches, to the point where his eyes grew sore. Jack never wanted to see the colour red ever again.

He silently wished he took Katherine with him as he rounded another corner, but elected to keep it a secret; admitting that to her would be more ammo for her teases, and she already had enough fun with what she had.

At that point he was trying to find someone, anyone, to ask them for directions, or maybe even an escort. Alas, it was like all of their staff knew he was looking for them and decided to play a castle-wide game of Hide N’ Seek. How humorous.

Around another corner. Down another red, red hallway. Another corner.

Then he heard the sound of voices.

Relief washed through him as he jogged towards it. As he turned the corner, he was about to exclaim something, something to garner attention, but stopped short when he was met with another empty hallway. Where did the voices come from?

He followed the noise, treading lightly. The further he went into the dead end, the clearer the voices became. Eventually he stopped when they were at their loudest, and Jack put two and two together—the voices were coming from a room, a door on the right side. But there was no light coming from the bottom of the door, and it was the second to last door from the end of a dead-end hallway.

Jack knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, and he knew that he should’ve just knocked on the door and kindly asked whoever was inside for directions. But he couldn’t help himself. He cautiously leaned towards the wooden door, making sure to not rattle it any, and tuned in.

“...You fools!” A voice hissed vehemently, the end of a sentence. That voice sounded familiar, but Jack couldn’t quite recall. It was on the tip of his tongue.

A scoff. “Well you never specified that,” A second voice groaned, gruff and taut.

“Yeah, we were just doing our part of the deal,” A third voice said. This one was high and thin. “And you better fulfill yours. We aren’t risking our necks for nothing.”

A deal? Jack’s face scrunched up in confusion. Who was planning something secretly in the castle walls? That was several degrees of scandalous. It made him want to listen more. One of the three sighed.

“I thought it would go without saying,” The first voice spoke again. “Consider it specified. You cannot do it in public, and wait until after the wedding.”

Jack recognized the voice with a sudden, cold clarity; it was Joseph. His face fell slack. So this is where he was? Why was he here? What was he talking about, to who?

“Why do we have to wait so long?” Voice-number-three shot back. “We might as well not even bother. Find some other fool who'll wait wit' their necks on the knife.”

“Yeah,” Chimed Voice-number-two. “That wedding is still months away!”

“I’ll only get the power after the wedding. Besides, gentlemen, you signed contracts. If you want out, you’re going to owe me,” Joseph claimed, a certain gotcha tone to his voice that made Jack’s stomach lurch. It was a pitch he was intimately familiar with. A number was mumbled, but he couldn’t hear, likely whispered for the dramatics of it all. It must have been a high sum, as it was followed by two rough gasps.

Voice-number-two snarled in protest. “Are you mad?!”

“So you can’t quit,” Joseph said like it was a happy consensus, the smirk in his vouce audible. “You’re in this until you complete thr job. And please, when you actually do it, do a better job. A horse? Really?”

One of them snorted, reluctant. “It seemed like a good idea at the time, we followed until there was a window of opportunity.” Voice-number-three. “And we would’ve done it, too, if he wasn’t pulled at the last second.”

Click. Click.Puzzle pieces snapping in Jack's mind.

“That boy is smart. He wouldn’t have gone down just like that,” Joseph grumbled. “If you want to kill him, you’re going to have to think your plans through better.”

A sarcastic laugh came from one of them, deep and throaty. “Plans are hard to make when your targets are a Prince and a Queen.”

Click. Kill.

Click. Targets.

Click. Prince.

He wanted to kill him. Joseph wanted Jack dead.

Jack’s vision went swimming, and it suddenly became near impossible to breathe. Behind the door the conversation continued, but he couldn’t hear it anymore. The only sound he registered was a thunderous, deafening ring that made his ears ache. He stumbled away from the door, barely able to keep his balance.

Only one thought echoed in Jack’s mind: Joseph was going to kill him. Well, not Joseph directly. One of those other voices he heard, probably. Assassins. For him..

Part of Jack—his logic, his brain—wanted to kick the door down and expose that damned king to the world, expose him and whoever he was with for being treason-committing bastards. But the other half—his heart, the weak, emotional side of him—wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. Unfortunately, that side won.

A loud, dry gasp crackled out of Jack’s throat as he tried to inhale all the air he could, slowly lowering to the floor. He tried counting to ten like Medda taught him, but he couldn’t even register a thought above the countless questions racing in his head giving him a throbbing headache.

It might have been five, ten, twenty, or thirty minutes before someone found him. Jack couldn’t tell. But eventually a Brooklyn guard spotted him kneeled over on the ground and ran up, frantically asking if he was alright. Just managing to lift his head, he saw that the guard was wearing a red uniform. Damned red.

Jack swallowed thickly, and could barely get a word out of his seemingly airless lungs and past his trembling lips. It was a miracle he was able to say anything at all, “Please, take me to Mama,”

Despite the lack of royal title, the guard understood. Jack leaned on him as he was led back to the meeting room. In the back of his mind, Jack wondered where the hell this guy was when he was lost earlier.

When they got back to the room, he was swarmed by people. Not unwelcome people by any means—Medda, David, Katherine and Sarah, all trying to meet his eyes and implore what happened. They meant well, but all it did was make his head pound even worse. He wanted to scream, to burst open, to tear this palace apart brick by brick.

“Jack? Jack, what happened?” David’s usually calm voice was at a panicked, fever pitch. His hand was firm on Jack’s shoulder, trying to bring him back to reality.

Katherine was leaning forward, curls swaying as she tried to meet his eyes. “Jack, what’s wrong? Did something bad happen?”

“Jackie. Jackie, darling, look at me,” Medda’s voice was dripping with concern as she gently held the sides of Jack’s face, trying to tilt his head up. Something nasty and bitter in the back of his mind was mad at himself for making her worry. “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay. What happened to you?”

Jack didn’t know. He didn’t know. His head hurt and his eyes stung. The ring in his ears was ear-splitting. This had to be a cruel dream he had yet to wake up from, or a bad joke, or—

“Oh my, what is going on over here?”

Upon hearing that voice, that faux richness, the damp coals of Jack’s heart reignited with the fury of a million suns. He writhed away from everyone’s touch and whirled around to glare at the king dead in the eye, extending a shaky, accusatory finger.

“You."

The room fell into a stunned quiet, several sets of eyes bewilderedly flickering between the prince and the king. For a long moment, the only sound was Jack’s laboured breathing.

“Me?” Joseph cocked an eyebrow, feigning all the innocence in the world. It made Jack furious, unadulterated rage swarming through him.

“You—You monster!” Jack’s couldn’t tell if he was shaking from his overwhelming panic or his flaming fury. “You want me dead!”

Gasps ricocheted around the room.

Joseph narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about, boy?”

The prince swallowed, taking in more greedy gulps of air. It was still hard to breathe, still riding off the high of his panic attack. “Don’t act innocent now. I stumbled on your little conversation. You want to kill me.”

A series of emotions flashed across Joseph’s expression, too quick for Jack to catch and decipher. He tried hard not to break his stare, trying to stave off the thought that he was looking into the eyes of his murderer.

Finally, his face landed on an emotion; shock. “Why, I’d never! How dare you accuse me of such things!”

Jack’s jaw dropped. Just minutes ago he heard this man planning out his death, and here he was denying it and calling him the crazy one.

“It’s the truth!” Jack fired back. “I heard you myself! You were back there talkin’ about doing it after the wedding! It’s why you were late!”

“I was late because I was talking to the reception planners,” Joseph retorted indignantly, a hand against his crisp lapel, over his heart. “Not because I ‘want to kill you’. Where on earth would you get that idea?”

“Oh, I dunno, maybe after hearing it come from your mouth,” Jack laughed sarcastically, bitterly, mirthlessly.

The king was looking at Jack like he told him the one he loved most was dead. “I wouldn’t ever think that! Prince Jack, I view you as a son—”

“Don't.”

“But it’s true! I thought that after the past couple of weeks, we had grown closer,” Joseph claimed "Evidenty I was wrong, what with you spouting all these false, ludicrous claims! You're lucky I don't charge you with treason here and now."

"Me? Treason?" Jack gritted his teeth, moments from bursting at the seams. He briefly caught his Mother’s eye, then had a glimmer of an idea. “And you threatened my Mama too!”

“What?” Medda choked out, aghast.

“That’s right! I heard you saying how you want us. The Prince and Queen killed after the wedding, isn’t that right?” Jack continued, face dissolving into a proud sneer.

Medda blinked, nonplussed. Behind her, Sarah moved a bit closer, a shadow passing over her fair face. “Joseph? Is this true?”

Joseph glanced over to the Queen, alarmed. “Of course not! I would never dream of hurting you or your son, Miss Medda. I have no clue where he’s getting all of this from," He sounded like he was the victim, exasperated. “Perhaps it’s from his Father, he was never as temperate.”

That's it. “Why, you—!” Jack surged forward, ready to literally shake sense into him, but didn’t make it a single step before he was restrained from behind by David.

“Breathe, Your Highness,” David whispered, an unmistakable panic in his voice.

David was ignored as Jack kept his enraged gaze glued on the king. “You want me dead! Admit it! You’re gonna kill me!”

By now, Jack sounded at least a little bit crazy. He looked a little crazy as well, with his wide eyes and hostile expression.

“I’ve told you, I would never hurt you, much less think of killing you,” Joseph’s tolerance was growing thin, his anger of being so violently accused showing more vividly. “And I don’t know why you’re getting the idea I would.”

“Because I heard you say it!” Jack said, tone still aggravated and shrill. Then, he abruptly turned to Medda with desperation scrawled across his face. “Mama, you believe me, right?”

Silence.

Too long of a silence.

“Mama..?”

Medda worried her bottom lip slightly, not quite meeting Jack’s eyes. She focused on her hands, folding them neatly in front of her stomach. “Well, Jack, your claim is rather bold—”

“But I heard him say it!”

“There's no real evidence,” Medda continued. “What you’re accusing Joseph of is incredibly serious. If you have solid proof, we could attempt a trial, but...”

Jack could not believe what he was hearing. His own mother is taking Joseph’s word over his. All of the rage and will to fight drained from him in an instant.

“Jackie, I know you two haven’t always been on the same page, but this is ridiculous,” Medda said, her look and voice pitiful. It tore Jack in two.

“Sarah? Kath?” Jack looked to the two girls helplessly. Neither met his eyes. He turned around. “Dave? You gotta believe me on this Davey, please. Please.”

A murmur of something began to come out of David’s mouth, but he cut himself off and shook his head, looking to the floor. Jack’s resolve crumbled into a million little bits. Tears swarmed his eyes again.

He glared up at Joseph with a look of stone. “You won’t get away with this.” Then, he pushed past them all and left, slamming the door behind him.

Jack stormed through the hallways with his head down, and there thankfully still wasn’t much staff around. He moved automatically, not paying attention to where he was going, just knowing that he needed to escape.

It was at a high balcony that he finally stopped, bursting through the glass doors melodramatically and leaning against the marble railing for support, head in his hands. Only when he stilled, the wind murmuring around him, did he finally allow himself to cry again.

Joseph wanted to kill him. Joseph had people hired to kill him.

Not just him, but his mother too. And she didn’t even believe him. Nobody did. Everyone was on Joseph’s side, the side of the killer. Perhaps it was because of Jack’s slightly crazy state when he accused him, but it was also because the king was a really good liar. Jack knew that from previous experience.

The thought of growing up and becoming king himself scared Jack beyond belief, it did—but the thought of dying before he could get there and figure it out scared him even more. If that rampaging horse was their first attempt, what was their actual try going to be like? How many more times were they going to try?

Jack had no idea Joseph hated him that bad. For the longest time he thought of their relationship as a like-hate, and that no matter how much they got on each other’s nerves, they were able to at least tolerate one another. Apparently not. Apparently Jack was so intolerable he was wanted dead.

He thought back to when he first heard the conversation, replaying their dialogue and trying to identify the voices of the other two people. Try as he might, he couldn’t quite place them. They were voices he’d definitely heard before, but he couldn’t remember any faces or names. He let out a groan and sank his arms further into the railing.

He was going to die.

Some time later, he heard the door click open and close. He didn't bother to turn around. Clicking footsteps echoed as someone shuffled beside the prince, folding against the railing as well.

“If you’re here to make fun of me, or to ridicule me for accusin’ your Father, you don’t need to, I’m just fine dealing with my own self pity.” Jack didn’t lift his head.

Katherine let out a scoff. “That’s not what I’m here to do.”

“Then what do you want? To kick me out? Exile?" Jack interrogated, still speaking to the marble.

“Not that either,” Katherine rolled her eyes. She paused for a long moment, staring down at the fine fabric of her dress. Expensive twill and silk. “Did my Father really say that?”

That made Jack look up, glancing over at her incredulously. “What?”

“Did my Father actually say all of that? About wanting to kill you?”

“You sayin’ you believe me?”

“Just answer the question.”

Jack snorted, caught between amusement and grief. “Yeah, he did. I got lost on my way to the washroom, and heard him talking in a side room while looking for help. He has, like, two guys actually doing the job, and apparently they have some sort of signed contract with him. They’re gonna do it some time after the wedding."

How could he talk so casually of his own death? Katherine went quiet, considering his words.

“Look, Kath, you don’t have to trust what I say. Heaven knows no one else does,” Jack’s eyes lazily trailed out to the view ahead. It was a grand courtyard, abundant with lush plant life and a fountain in the center. “But if I ever disappear, look into it. At least get those two guys he has hired in the slammer.”

“You’re not going to disappear,” She said seriously, dainty eyebrows furrowed.

“I mean, I will if your Father has his way, which he usually does,” Jack closed his eyes and focused on the emotions in his chest. Fear, anger, dread. They were there, more manageable than before, but he was still ready to implode. If Joseph had his way, he wouldn’t live to see twenty three.

“Then we’ll have to make sure he doesn’t,” Katherine mumbled.

Jack paused. Blinked. “You saying you’re with me, Kath?”

Katherine let out a deep breath, shoulders drooping but face hardening resolutely. “I’m saying that you better be right about all of this, Jack Kelly.”

Chapter Text

Jack needed an idea. He needed an idea, and he needed it fast.

Finding out that a king wanted him assassinated was not pleasant — much less one of the most influential royals in a hundred mile radius. Because of his immense influence, nobody seemed to believe he could do any wrong. If Jack went spouting the propaganda that King Joseph Pulitzer planned to kill him, he’d sooner be exiled from his own kingdom before anything was done about it.

That meant that for the time being, he was all on his own. Not Medda nor David brought up his hysteric murder-accusing episode since it happened. Jack pretended that it didn’t sting as much as it did. Whenever he had downtime, he would spend it in his room, thinking; what to do, what to do, what to do.

Unfortunately, Jack learned that he isn't very good at plans and the like.

Between messily scratching at paper with graphite stained fingers and simply laying back and letting his mind wander — more of the latter than the former — Jack’s mind had been whirring and buzzing with half-baked ideas.

But going back and forth in his own echo chamber wasn’t enough anymore. Not that he'd ever get sick of himself, because nobody ever could, but he needed a second opinion. He needed an equally advanced mind to tell him point blank if his ideas were going to stop his premature death or get him thrown into a dungeon for treason.

Enter: Princess Katherine Pulitzer

So far she was the only one who believed him, but her belief was thin and wavering. She was apprehensive, treading with light steps. Considering that she was trying to wrap her head around the fact that her own father would go as low as murder to gain more power, it was understandable, but it would be a lie to say it didn't sting. Still, he counted his lucky stars to have her on his side, willing to hear his inanities.

That’s why he planned out this private meeting for the two of them; to discuss the ideas that have been restlessly ricocheting in his mind, and also to pull her a little closer to full, genuine belief.

The other day she was in his kingdom to oversee some preparation he promptly forgot about, but while she was present he took her aside and put forth his proposal: to meet at a cozy little village just beyond the outskirts of the kingdom for a... discussion.

Within the humble village resided several of Jack's peasant friends and acquaintances, most notably Spot Conlon, a rough and tough woman that only rose to Jack's shoulders but possessed double his bravado. Spot agreed to let Jack use a room in her home as a secret meeting room, so long as no mess was left behind, or Jack would be "left without an upper half." So after he told Katherine where and when to meet him for their rendezvous, all he could do after that was wait.

Jack paced around the room anxiously, hoping that Katherine liked him enough — and believed him enough — to actually accept the informal invitation and come. He scheduled it for a time he knew she would be free with enough of a window for her to get there and back home safely. There’s no reason she wouldn’t, right?

Maybe the seclusion would scare her off. It was a closed off area, practically isolated from the rest of the kingdom by dense foliage. The buildings were splayed out in an order that made it possible to tell which ones were built first and which ones were added more recently.

Spot’s house was a modest two-story made of dark brown logs, nestled between the home of another and a general store. The bottom floor had everything she needed to live off of, which meant that the upstairs, where Jack was, was more of a storage situation. Most of what was stored was various weapons, some Jack had never seen before and was surprised the woman knew how to wield.

Other than the stored items, it was a mostly empty space save for the long table beneath which Jack efficiently used to hold various papers and parchments he had brought with him. He had also drawn the curtains on the windows so there was only a sliver of sunlight peeking through each, paranoia dogging him like a hungry hound.

“Just so you know, I’m honoured to have the crowned prince usin’ my attic for his little secret meetings and dates,” Spot leaned against the railing, a casual smile gracing her face. “But I’d still like to know what exactly you’re doin’ up here.”

Jack waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t you worry about it. I’m just talking with Katherine about some… kingdom stuff. Royal stuff.”

“Wow, two royals in my home at once,” She whistled, eyebrows raised. “What pressure. You sure you ain’t gonna tell me what’s gonna happen up here?”

“Hundred percent. Just do what you normally do during the day, you won’t even know we’re here."

There was a distinct firmness to the set of her arms, the rigidness of her stance. It was evident she wanted to pry further, to squeeze the truth out of him. But she didn’t.

Eventually, Spot nodded, gave Jack a final up-and-down look, then headed down the stairs. Only when he heard the front door creak open and thud shut did Jack breathe, slouching into an incredibly un-prince-like posture.

He hadn’t told anybody about Joseph’s plans yet. Nobody except for the princess, who was there when he first found out anyways. There had been countless temptations, countless instances when he wanted to scream and rage and weep, but he bit his tongue every single time. The last thing he needed was a rumour about bad blood between him and Joseph when the kingdoms were already in a frenzy about the wedding that was supposed to unite them.

Theoretically there was no harm in telling his friends the cruel news — Race, Crutchie, Spot, or any of his village friends. They wouldn’t tell a soul if he asked them not to. But they would worry, they would worry about him immensely, and Jack didn’t want that. He didn’t want or need their pity. And they shouldn’t be worrying about him anyways. Jack Larkin-Kelly was the Crowned Prince, soon to be King. Nobody needed to fret over him.

Behind him, somebody climbed up the stairs, feet tap tap tapping against the wooden steps. A heavy silence followed as the person stilled, remaining on the final step.

Swallowing back the slight startle he had, Jack cleared his throat and straightened back up. “I told you, Spot, I’m fine. And no, I’m not telling you.”

“Not Spot,” A new voice rang out, smooth as silk.

Jack whirled instantly. There stood Katherine, as poised as ever with only a half-smile betraying her amusement. She wore a forest green dress with silver stitching on the bodice, the skirt's hem just brushing the floor.

“Kath! You came!” Jack surprised even himself with how eager he sounded. He cleared his throat again, then spoke more humorously. “I was worried you were gonna ditch our date.”

Katherine chuckled as she entered the room, crossing over to the table with all of Jack’s scribbled thoughts on display. “Oh, I thought about it. I mean, I knew sneaking out of the castle wouldn't be easy—and it wasn’t, mind you. So I debated it for a while,” She picked up a piece of paper and began scanning it analytically, eyes narrowing analytically. “But I figured I should hear you out. What’s all this?”

“Well consider me honoured to be graced by your presence, Your Highness,” Jack said teasingly, dipping into a short bow. She rolled her eyes and shoved his shoulder with a scoff. “These are just my thoughts. I’ve been pondering the past few days on, you know, how not to get murdered by your dad. I want your thoughts on it all, because two heads are better than one and alla’ that.”

“I believe you Jack, I do. I mean, it suddenly makes sense why my Father had so many exclusive meetings that I couldn’t attend,” Katherine explained as she finished reading one piece of paper that contained a list of places he could run away to and hide out in for a couple of months if needed. She turned over the page to read the backside. “But I’m still wary. It’s my Father, Jack, and you know as well as I do that—”

A brief pause, in which the Princess pressed a hand against her lips as a muffled noise — laughter? — was stunted in her mouth.

“What?"

Taking a moment to compose herself, Katherine turned the page to Jack so he could see.

On the backside was a humorously drawn face of no description, save for the crown atop its head, a wicked grin indicated by inward-turned eyebrows that formed a V shape above a narrow smile. A vibrant red crossed through the face in a decidedly vibrant scribble.

Jack gave in a little, allowing a slight laugh. “It was meant to be your Father. I was upset, alright?”

“No, I get it,” Katherine set down the paper with a wry smirk. “You have quite the artistic talent.”

“Of course I do.”

“And quite the ego as well, apparently,” She continued with a cocked eyebrow. Then she turned to the table fully, eyes dragging across the sight. “But you know just as well as I do that my Father won’t go down without a fight, no matter what we do. He’ll defend, deflect, and abuse his way to victory. I’ve seen it happen.”

“I know, Kath,” Jack sighed. Then, adding a dose of humour, he added: “Remember when the president of ya kingdom’s nature conservation group accused him of enabling mass pollution with that bill he signed for the shops? They were right, too, but he sent them running from the castle with their tail between their legs.”

“Oh, I remember that. I couldn’t go outside for a week without getting dirty glares, like they thought I’d take the fall on his behalf,” She said with the same smile but a mirthless tone. “That could be you if we don’t figure out something foolproof.”

The prince cast a look across the table with all of his fervent and frantically written down ideas. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if any of them stood a chance in the battle he was fighting. Some of them he knew wouldn’t be successful, and had a better chance of giving Joseph an advantage to enact his plan successfully rather than helping him, but he was getting desperate.

That thought was scary, how one slip-up could nearly end it all for him. If one thing wasn’t thought through Jack would be gone in a blink of an eye. The fear was unnatural, prickly, unproductive. He shoved it to the side, forcing resolve and determination to come forth.

“We will think of something. Something so amazing and foolproof your Father won’t know what hit him,” Jack said, refusing to let any negative thoughts return. “Let’s start with the ideas I’ve had so far.”

And they did, they read through and discussed most of the ideas Jack had scrawled out on those papers and parchments. They talked about the good and bad elements of each one, and if it had a chance of actually succeeding or if he would kill himself before Joseph had the chance.

Running away was stupid, Katherine thought. My father has eyes on every corner of the kingdom, she argued, and he’s constantly expanding his horizons, so it wouldn’t be hard for him to find you.

In retaliation Jack mentioned how he could always be on the move, because finding someone who’s never in the same place twice would be difficult, but she still shot him down. You think your kingdom would take kindly to their prince disappearing into thin air? She had a point there, he had to admit.

And running away from your problems isn’t a good solution, Jack.

He glossed over that particular comment.

Another idea Jack had was to start a new life in a new kingdom. To think up a new identity and live in a little hut, going to town once a week with his horse for groceries and other necessities with his head down and living the free, unrestricted life of his dreams. Once Katherine got over how oddly specific that one was, she rejected that idea too. It was still running away, which she didn’t like, and in her words, he was too well-known to start life anew.

“You’ve got a recognizable face, Jack,” She loosely gestured to his face with a hand. “Especially with all of the wedding news buzzing around lately, at least one person would know who you are, and multiple would find you familiar. A flimsy grapevine is all it takes to get discovered.”

Jack groaned. Then: “Oh, a recognizable face, huh?” He simpered, just barely dodging a hit from the girl as she rolled her eyes.

Trying to oust Joseph was out of the question as soon as Katherine read it on the paper. She fixed him with an incredulous look, and slowly tore the slip into two as he halfheartedly defended his thought process. I was thinking maybe if we got enough people together, we could start something, because all it takes is one voice, you know?

It was a fair argument, but so was Katherine’s retribution: Not with my Father. He runs the world.

Many other ideas were tried and shot down as well. Declaring war to delay it? Absolutely not. Hiring assassins to kill Joseph before he could get his assassins to kill Jack? Not in a million years. Figuring out who the assassins were to stop them? Impossible considering they had no clues or leads.

In short, the two were at a bit of a dead end.

“Is that the last of what you brought?” Katherine asked, folding a piece of paper like a card and sliding it out of reach.

“Yeah. I thought they were decent at least,” Jack slumped against the table, gaze falling to the floor.

She surveyed the papers, sorted into piles. “I’ll have to think, I’m not good with on the spot stuff. But I can tell you that we’ll need to be much more stealthy and thorough than… well, any of this.” Her hand glided above the table as a gesture.

Jack scoffed. “Not one to beat around the bush, are you?” He stare glumly at the comicaldrawing he made of Joseph, which Katherine left open in the top corner of the table. “Think fast though, princess. I don’t have a lot of time before the search parties are sent out for me."

“They already have.”

Both Jack and Katherine startled at the new voice, the princess gasping and stumbling on the hem of her dress while the prince let out a string of curse words. They eventually recovered with varying degrees of grace and refinement — that is, Katherine with and Jack without — and whipped around to face the staircase. It was David, standing with a casual posture but a tight face.

“How did you — ! I — !” Jack pointed lamely, barely able to form a coherent sentence. How did he not hear him coming up the stairs? He coughed harshly. “Search parties?”

David stepped into the room. “You know I have your most frequent run away spots memorized. It saves me the trouble of wandering everywhere and wasting time. And no, no search parties, just me. But that counts for something, right?” He gave an amused smile at the end, but it disappeared just as quick as it came.

Jack let out a sturdy breath, trying to collect his bearings. He wiped his hands across his face. “Let me guess. I have a suit fitting or a meeting to attend.”

“Not for a few hours,” David admitted sheepishly, shoulders rising a little. “But I noticed you were gone and came to find you sooner rather than later. You know, save the hassle.”

“You missed me that much?” Jack grinned slyly, resorting to his go-to one-liners while his mind was still reeling. “I’m flattered, Davey. Flattered.”

David lightly scoffed, loosely crossing his arms. “Don’t worry about it. We should be going. Now.”

“Dave, wait!” Jack pleaded. “We’re trying to figure out how to avoid my assassination here, we need to think of something before we just wrap up.”

“Your Highness, this is—”

“It’s true! I know what I heard!” Jack interrupted, praying and hoping that David would just understand and believe. “King Joseph Pulitzer wants me dead. He has two assassins who are going to kill me after the wedding."

David remained silent, lips pursed and eyes darting back and forth. Being hesitant was in his nature, it seemed, and Jack had never despised it more than he did right then. Believe me or believe the murderer, Jack wanted to shout. There was no room for hesitance in assassination plots.

“I believe him, David,” Katherine said. Jack’s head snapped up, looking at her with a little more vulnerability in his expression than what he would like to admit. “My Father was never fair, and now he’s stooping lower than ever before to get what he wants. It’s happened before, he’s just doing it again.”

A long, audible breath through circular lips. Shoulders tense, David glanced over at Jack again, who eventually turned to meet his gaze.

Finally, finally David spoke. “Alright. Alright, I believe you.”

A small grin tugged at Jack’s lips, hopeful. “Really?”

He sighed, swallowing thickly. “Yeah. I don’t—I don’t know what I can do, but I’ll try. And I believe you.”

Jack, Katherine, and David. A cunning and charming prince, a gorgeous and wise princess, and a shy and hesitant valet to the prince. Trying to prevent a murder, just the three of them — and wasn't that one hell of a team?