Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was the same as it always was every time he closed his eyes. Darkness was the only thing around him, and after a short moment, he would see it. Light would shine through, so brilliant, bold, beautiful, and it cast the darkness away like a purifying flame. And then he would feel it. A gentle breeze was blowing, pushing against his body and creasing his fur with the loving kisses of nature. And then he would hear it. A beautiful tune, softer and sweeter than anything his ears had ever had the pleasure of taking in. It was everything all at once, hot and cold, fast and slow, loving and hateful, thoughtful and petty.

It was the same as it always had been. He found himself at the center of an open field, his legs crossed beneath him, his body draped in a long, flowing, angelic robe, with an instrument, his bell drum, settled onto his lap. The field was caught in a paradox, always flanked by blistering tundras on one end and incinerating magma on the other, all except for the center. The center was the balance between the two extremes. It was the light that separated the darkness, the peace that blossomed after a long war, the order that tamed chaos. Above, trails of pink-green lights of an aurora borealis lit up the night sky and streaked across the stars like massive vipers made of the purest form of color.

Amid the chaos of his surroundings, Calion would play sweet melodies, and the long swirling lights of the sky would dance along to every note. The tundra would avalanche oceans of snow, and magma would erupt into mountains of flame. He was the tamer of first, the handler of burning flame, nature bent to his will upon the command of his music. In that moment, Calion could feel himself completely. The fingers that maneuvered elegantly along his instrument, the orange fur that ruffled in the gentle wind, the heart in his chest that beat with passionate intrigue. At that moment, he was surrounded by nothing but Ventrexia’s good fortune. The gods had blessed him with their presence.

He could see Cala’s indisputable beauty in the chaos of the land, feel Leon’s embrace with the wind against his fur, and his brother Lio’s undying pride in his heart. Calion beat his drum along to Avo’s horns of war that echoed through the night, and at his core, he felt Mar’s insurmountable lust for artistry and debauchery, and behind them all was the mother of all things. The maiden of war, the provider of children, the mother of mothers. At that moment, Calion felt as though Ventrexia herself had blessed him. In that moment, he truly felt he was free.

Calion opened his pale eyes. The bold, beautiful light that once chased away the darkness had faded. The wind planting kisses on his cheeks had stopped pushing gently against his fur, and the sweet melody that had sent his heart into a flurry was no more. The field was gone, the sky's bewitching lights were gone, the chaos of the land was gone, and Calion found himself sitting in the backseat of a car. The interior was sleek, the finishings coated in a layer of carbon fiber panels. Accents of the doors and dashboards were trimmed with gold and reflected like mirrors. On the edges, golden lights lit up the interior ever so lightly. Toward the opposite end of where he sat, a small bar was set up. A row of fine wines and decadent champagnes lined the back walls of the interior. They went untouched for the duration of that trip. His parents didn’t allow him to drink at his age, and he wouldn’t be expected to do so under their guidance, not that he was hurting for a drink anyhow. He didn’t find the appeal in it, even if he were allowed one measly sip. Even if his parents themselves partook from time to time, Calion didn’t see himself as a connoisseur of alcohol. For the one time he had managed to sneak one under the noses of his parents, a bottle of vintage northern ale, he found the taste less than savory. He thinks it was just an adult thing. Maybe he would grow into it, he would learn to love it, or he would possibly drink socially at parties, balls, gatherings, and special events, where everyone was pressured into riddling their systems with the king's wine.

Calion hummed silently to himself. He looked around the low-lit interior of the car. It was long, a lavish limousine that hardly served any use other than carrying Calion to where he needed to be. He never got to travel much (trips outside of brief strolls around the large gardens of the palace were rare), but when he did, this car served as the pride of the fleet, always escorted by a motorcade of heavy-hitting security vans, front, back, and side to side. He was always surrounded by some form of protection, usually in the form of the Ventrexian royal guard. Their black uniforms and violet sashes were hard to miss.

A small, fatigued sigh escaped him as he absent-mindedly fiddled with his tail. Calion wasn’t an average kid. There were some days he wished he were, but those were just dreams. Something he could think about to drive away the dread that clung to his mind like overly sticky, tough-as-bricks, Tryvuulian chewing gum. No, instead, Calion was thrust into a life that was far more important than any average kid had to worry about.

Calione was the prince of Ventrexia, the future ruler of his people. An entire planet of people. From birth, his life was set before him, his path carved in stone and doused with the spices of destiny. He was set to be a king one day, and that fact had slowly corroded his mind from the day he was old enough to understand what he was meant to be. It was a frightening prospect that no amount of grooming could prepare him for.

Calion leaned back in his seat, his tail still creased between his fingers. He settled into the plush, velvet-lined seating, relaxing as he let the low, soft hum of the limousine's engine fill his ears. That's the one thing he could say gave him a sense of ease in life. The luxuries that were offered to him. Growing up, he had all the best things. He had the best toys, from gizmos from Hooblo, to Torukkus figurines, to earth-made trinkets. He had the best luxury brand vehicles from all over the galaxy, both cars and hover transports, to escort him to and from his family's palace. Though he could never drive them himself, he had fun riding in them whenever the opportunity arose. He had the best teachers Trexims, power, and respect could afford. He had some of the finest chefs to cook for him and servants to clean after him. He had a royal palace which stretched on for 300,000 square meters around his family's private premises and could easily cover a few city blocks. At least that's what Nikos tells him, and he had no reason to distrust his cousin.

“Calion.” A voice, refined and graceful, called to him from his right. His ears pricked in its direction immediately as he heard it. “You're playing with your tail again.” She said, her tone gentle but almost scolding.

“Sorry, mother.” A timid response came as he released his tail and let it rest on the soft, dark carpet underfoot.

“Are you okay, son?” This time from his left, another voice, deep and commanding, but also exceptionally loving, spoke. “Was the play not to your liking?” He said, some sense of worry betraying his hearty tone. At first, Calion was not quick to speak. He was flanked by odd looks on either side of him. To his left, a man lean of stature and humble of character, with a beard over his whiskers that could rival even the most vicious of warlords, sat with a glint of worry in his eyes as he waited for his son to voice his mind. To his right was a woman who sat refined and stoic. Her hair was a shade of royal blue and stretched far past her shoulders with ease. She was beautiful, blessed by the goddess herself, most would say. Their fur was the same shade of sunburst orange as his, and he and his mother shared the same tone of hair, though his was styled in a long three-strand braid from the forehead and fell far down his back.

They were King Lionidas of house Lio and Queen Callisto of house Cala. They were his parents, and they were some of the most overly protective people he knew. 

“Calion?” His mother spoke up again, her voice less chastising than before. A look similar to her husband's pulled along her expression.

“No,” Calion finally said, managing to collect his thoughts. “The play was nice. I really like the slow parts, when Meowmar would take solace in his lover.” He murmured, resisting the urge to grab at his tail once again, lest he invoke his mother’s displeasure once more.

They had been returning from a play that had started in the early afternoon and had gone late into the night. The play was a four-part epic, recounting the tale of lord Meowmar and his efforts in uniting the whole of Ventrexia under one banner, one kingdom, one ruler. It was a beautiful rendition of the tale that Calion had only heard spoken among the servants of the palace. 

Calion never got to leave the palace often; most of his days consisted of studying and being watched by overprotective guards and servants. His studies filled most of his time and, as boring as they were, they occupied his mind a great deal. He learned many things about his people, his planet, and the different cultures that dotted its surface. He had to. Being the future king of his people meant he had to be exceptionally gifted in many fields.

He had a tutor for every subject. His tutor in history taught him about the origins of the land, her people, and the bloody wars that soaked the dirt and grew the trees. His tutor combat taught the boy the fine art of war, strategy, and the importance of defending one's honor. His tutor in cultural understanding taught him about the different parts, regions, and provinces of Ventrexia. His tutor in religious studies taught him about Ventrexia’s pantheon, the gods, and how their names differed depending on the region. His tutor in the arts guided him in all things art. Painting, writing, drawing, and music. Those were some of Calion’s favorite lessons. Most days, he dreamed of his next piece of music he would write, or poem he would construct, or painting he would compose. Those creative thoughts often flew through his mind like silver wings. If his days were mainly made up of his study in the arts, Calion would hardly lose a wink of sleep. 

“I know it could have been better, son.” His father said with a minuscule amount of regret in his voice. “I know the embellishments and exaggerations can be a bit… much.”

“Exaggerations.” Calion’s mother scoffed wryly beneath her breath. “I hardly think a single part of his tale was exaggerated, dear husband."

Lionidas looked at her with a skeptical glance. “Wh- You truly believe that one Ventrexian can stand his ground against one thousand others and live to speak the tale?”

“Not only do I believe it is possible. I believe it has happened. They simply don’t hand out the title of great unifier’ willy-nilly.” She stated matter-of-factly, an assured smirk resting on her lips. “That play has been in circulation for years. The playwright has taken great care in recounting the tale with all the most credible sources available. It’s a wonderful piece, you can not deny her talent, dear husband." 

“As talented as she is,” His fathers sighed. “I still find it hard to believe such exploits to be possible.”

“Even if the facts do not lie.”

“Facts can be embellished, dear wife.”

“Do you mean to say that there is not a hint of fact in the tale? Do you call it into question?”

Lionidas fell silent for a moment. A hand clambered to his chin as a finger tapped against his beard in thought. “I would never call Meowmar's exploits into question. I simply call into question the motives of certain individuals. No matter how talented one may be in the art of storytelling. Embellishment is embellishment." 

“Mm, embellishment… ” She chuckled through a hum. “Notice how stubborn your father can be, Calion?”

“See how your mother can be just as so, son?” Both of them share soft chuckles before falling into a comfortable silence. Calion looked at them confused. He never really understood his parents, or more so, their brand of love. Most of the time, it seemed like they were at odds with each other, but after a short verbal scuffle, they were back to sharing good-natured laughs, loving smiles, and passionate hugs and kisses.

“In any case, I enjoyed it nevertheless.” 

Calion brought his attention to the limo’s window and looked outside, the best he could from where he was positioned anyway. He never got to see the city so close in person. Even now, as he rode through the streets and as buildings passed by like distant thoughts, he hardly knew what most of it looked like. What he could see, and what he always saw from the palace, were the buildings. They were all so much taller up close and reached up so high they nearly blotted out the skyline. It was also very bright, even from the palace, he could see it so clearly. Almost no inch of the city seemed to be covered in darkness. There was always something there to brighten its edges, and from a distance, the metropolis had the appearance that it was encased in some sort of bubble shield. On every corner there was some form of light, a digital billboard, neon signs, holographic figures dancing in the sky and modeling clothing, or some other form of product, and voices that echoed from the void, seemingly advertising things Calion couldn’t quite make out through the blast proof tinted windows of his limousine. As good as Ventrexian hearing was, Ventrexian protection was far better.

After an hour or so, bright neon's and tall buildings would turn into rural night skies, and night skies would turn into wilderness as their vehicle finally came to a stop. Upon his return, Calion could never see it, but he could always hear the gate to his home open with heavy rumbles before the car began to move again. They would always pass by a few guards, all standing and saluting on either side of the vehicle. It would stop again, and the guards would begin a search, looking under, over, and within the car, always giving the family apologetic bows for the intrusion.

Calion didn’t understand why the guards would need to apologize. It was his parents and uncle who authorized that any vehicle entering or exiting the premises be searched. He didn’t even understand why it needed to be done in the first place. For as long as he could remember, life had been like this. He was always under heavy guard, always had an eye or five on him at any given moment. During his studies, he was watched; during his leisure time, he was watched. Even when sleeping, eating, using the bathroom, or taking a bath, Calion was always sent with one guard posted on the other side of the door. He should be grateful for that at least, but that never stopped a guard from barging in when they thought they heard odd noises.

He didn’t know why things were the way they were, and up until recently, he hadn’t questioned the motives of his family. But he had just turned twelve, and the thought of this being his life felt odd. He felt caged, like one of the many animals in the palace menagerie, stuck like he had just run through quicksand without paying attention. The thought that his life would potentially be like that for the next six years was especially maddening. He didn’t know what to do about it, but there wasn’t much he could do. Whenever he questioned the need for so much security, the answers would never fail to come back as vague.

Once the guards were through securing the vehicle, they sent the family on their way, giving final salutes before the gate would rumble closed again. The car rolled up a lit cobblestone pathway, past a large fountain that sat at the center of a rotunda, leading up to the palace. After another few minutes, the car would come to another stop, this time at the palace entrance, and the doors would open up as his parents were ushered out with guiding hands. Those same hands took extra care with Calion, treating his royal paw like that of a fair maiden coming out of a high carriage. He didn’t really like that. He didn’t like being treated more delicately than others just because of his status or lineage. He knew it couldn’t be helped. He was the crown jewel of the kingdom, hair to the throne, pride of Ventrexia. The prince of her people. He was going to face this treatment whether he liked it or not.

Stepping out of the car, Calion and his parents are greeted with a line of guards.

“Men, ten-hut!” The one at the center of the pact bellowed deeply, and on his word, the others snapped to a sharp attention before the royal family. He saluted. “Welcome back, my king.”

“Ah, Catomar, my dear brother.” Lionidas smiled joyfully at the man. He stepped toward him, saluting in a Ventrexian traditional manner before each man fell into a mighty hug. “I had no idea you were back. The captain of the guard should not be away from his pride for so long.” He said, still hugging Catomar before releasing him.

“My apologies, Nidas, I did not mean to be away for so long myself.” He chuckled, his razor-sharp stance softening up as his shoulders loosened. “I'm sure my son did an exemplary job in my absence, however." Catomar waved back at one of the other guards, and the young man arched his head at the sudden attention. His stance was far more rigid and stiff. He stood as sharp as a broadsword and was as sharp as one to boot. He wasn’t as tall as the other guards, nor as bulky, standing a shoulder shorter than the rest, but that by no means meant you should underestimate him. His fur was a creamy white, all save for his face and ears that lay shrouded in a deep shade of black. His eyes were oceans of shocking blue and cut as sharp as knives when he looked at you. He could be a vicious man, freshly loyal, stern at his friendliest of times, and downright scary at his meanest. He could decapitate you as quickly as he could look at you, and he was Calion’s favorite cousin.

“Ah, yes, more than exemplary. Nikos is a fine soldier and a finer captain of the guard. You would swear Avocato trained him himself.” 

“I'm sure he did. Those two were nearly inseparable when they first met, and I am happy for it. I could not ask for a finer son-in-law.” Catomar turned again, giving his son another nod before raising a hand. “Alright, men!” He bellowed again. “Secure the family and move them inside!”

“Sir!” The guards saluted, opening the large, gold, engraved doors to the palace. Before long, the family was inside. Calion breathed a sigh of longing. He was back home. Back to the long halls, marble pillars, and priorities of ancestors long past. He should feel relieved, but all he could feel was the cage door locking again.

“Uh, brother, a moment if you will.” Catomar hurried Lionidas away from the rest of the guard as he brought his tone to a temperate whisper. Calion, seeing this and curious as to what his uncle and father were discussing, focused his hearing on them. “I have much to discuss with you. The lord commander has called for a ceasefire. He wishes to-...” That was all Calion was able to hear before their conversation dropped to an inaudible hush. Even if he strained his ears now, he would not be able to do so in a way that didn’t make it obvious he was eavesdropping.

“Nikos.” Queen Callisto ordered, catching Nikos as he quickly snapped to attention before her. “Please escort Calion to his quarters, would you?” 

“Oh, Uhhh, honestly, mother, I'm not so tired just yet. Is it possible that I could stay up for a bit longer?” Calion said, looking at his mother. He stared at her with an almost pleading look, eyes wide and kittenish. If he could see himself, then he’d think he looked like a toddler.

“Ah, ah, ah, young man. You have combat studies bright and early, and mathematics and religious understanding afterward. You’ll want to have all of your energy for that, I believe.” Calion threw his head back and rolled his eyes as he let an irritated grumble settle in his throat.

“But mom!”

“Hush, cousin,” Nikos spoke, and when he did, Calion immediately went quiet. “It would be wise not to speak back to your mother in such a manner.” He stepped over to the young prince, arms folded behind his back. “We must be more respectful, hmm?” Calion gazed down at the lush carpets of the palace foyer. He knew better than to argue with Nikos, not just out of fear of angering his cousin but of disappointing him. Calion suppressed a sigh and nodded agreeably to his cousin.

“Come then.” Nikos offered a hand to Calion. The young prince hesitated at first to take it, but would place his paw into his cousin's with no further contest. Nikos took the hand as daintily as the guards who’d helped Calion out of the car before, only this time, Calion didn’t hate the feeling that came with Nikos being gentle with him. He believed it was because his cousin usually portrayed an exterior so harsh and hard-boiled. Nikos's being so kind to him made him feel like it was a sort of privilege that was afforded to no other.

Nikos wasted no time guiding Calion to his room. The walk was long but brisk. The halls of the places seemed to stretch on forever, its cavernous corridors lined with the portraits of lords and ladies alike. 

The entire time, Nikos held his hand with a loving softness that could match his mother’s. His shoulders stood broad and on alert. Even when he was at ease, Nikos was prepared for nearly anything and everything. His senses were always on high alert, and his clews stood at the ready to gash and slash anyone who would threaten harm to his family. That's what made him a perfect temporary replacement for the captain of the guard, even if some of the other guards didn’t take to his leadership at first. Nikos was only Calion’s cousin by marriage. Originally, he was from Ventrexia’s equatorial zone, which was mostly dry farmland. His upbringing was simple. He didn’t grow up in a great house or with the best education, so to see him now, wedded to a lady of house Cato, brought some measure of envy to the more bumptious guards who had spent most of their lives around the royal families. They saw him as a hick, not even fit to oversee the gardens or menagerie of the great palace. Often, Nikos had to put a lot of subordinates in their place before they would come to accept him in place of lord Catomar.

As Nikos whisked the young prince off to his room, Calion couldn’t get the thought of the marrow out of his mind. Calion never really liked his combat training. Taking a life seemed so unnecessary in his eyes, but he couldn’t ignore that he would have to end up fighting at some point in his life. Nikos tried to teach him on his off time, even though the man was not his tutor. In that sense, however, he loved learning from his cousin far more than his high-strung tutor. He felt Nikos was a much better candidate to teach him about combat and war. If only he had the time.

“Here we are,” Nikos said. He entered the room before Calion, observing the shadows with sharp, paranoid eyes before gesturing the young prince inward. “Okay.” He said. “Just give me a few minutes to secure the rest of the room, and then you can be rid of me.” Nikos laughed awkwardly and rubbed his chin when Calion did not respond the way he was expecting.

“Uh, Nikos.” Calion began softly. Nikos turned an attentive gaze to him as if expecting an order.

“Yes, my prince?”

“Uhmm. Why do we need so much security? It seems like every time I do something, it has to be followed by watchful eyes. Why is that? Is it for my parents or me, or all of us? Have I done something wrong?” As Calion questioned, Nikos’ body stiffened. It wasn’t his usual respectful stiffness he would pull in front of a superior, but something more apprehensive.

“Oh…” He was silent for a moment. His crystal blue eyes darted in all directions, seemingly looking for proper answers to the bold question. Answers Calion didn’t know needed to be searched for. “Your parents… the king and queen, they worry for you deeply, is all.”

“That’s all?” Calion said with a raised brow. He found the answer unsatisfactory. “But I don’t understand. Sure, I'm the prince, but so what? I doubt anyone’s out to hurt me, I doubt that anyone is even stupid enough to try laying a finger on me.”

“You would be surprised,” Nikos murmured without an ounce of humor or jest in his stone-cold eyes. Calion couldn’t help but throw an odd look his way. Possibly noticing the prince's questioning gaze, Nikos rushed to soften his feathers. “Ah, my young prince. Such bold questions for such a young mind. You are important, Calion, and a lot of people would not hesitate to exploit such a jewel as you. That is all I can say, but just know that as you grow older, your question shall be answered. The answer will come, Calion, with time. For now, however, we must ensure your safety by any means.” Calion looked away from Nikos. He couldn't understand what he meant, but that was probably the best he would get out of his cousin. “Please, allow me to secure the room, my prince.” Calion nodded and waved his cousin off. After a few minutes of searching the bathroom, the walk-in closet, and beneath his large bed, Nikos was done, deeming the room to be secure for the prince's presents. He marched to the other end of the room and swung open the door before turning back to Calion. “Remember, my prince cousin, answers will come with time.”

“Yeah.” Calion groaned. “I remember.” 

“Blessed dreams, cousin.” The man gave him a reassuring nod along with a little smile before exiting the room and shutting the door behind himself. Calion sighed and dropped down roughly on his bed. He allowed himself to get comfortable, the soft silk woven sheets morphing to his figure as he fought to find the perfect lying position. Calion looked toward the double doors of his room, staring down its white-gold finish and silently hoping Nikos would come back in with a proper explanation, if not, then to keep him company. His room felt so lonely at times, the whole palace did.

Most days, he found himself wanting a friend more than anything, and that led him to speak with the guards or servants. Most of them treated him like the prince they should have, the conversations never going further than ‘my lord’ in fear of insulting him in some way. Those who didn’t treat him as the prince, who looked past his lineage and royal blood, he liked to think were some of his best friends. He would ask them all sorts of questions, mostly pertaining to the city or the rest of the galaxy had any of them been off-world. Those were wonderful conversations, ones that filled his mind with all sorts of imaginings and musings. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to see it.

He brought his gaze away from the door and up toward the high ceiling of his room. He replayed his cousin's words in his mind numerous times that night. “With time.” He murmured. 

Being a prince was hard, believe it or not. To be heir to the throne of Ventrexia and father of all great houses was a stressful endeavor he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. It’s a role Calion had spent his whole young life preparing for and something that gave him a great deal of anxiety whenever the position came to mind. Could he choose, Calion would spend his days playing his instruments, his favorite of which being his bell drum. His heart was filled with music, and his spirit was imbued with the art of his ancestors. He didn’t want to rule a nation. He didn’t want to oversee great houses. He didn’t want delegates or retainers or royal guards watching him at all hours of the day. He just wanted to be a kid for once in his life. 

Calion groaned indignantly and pulled himself out of bed. He found himself inflamed by an inspiration that had raged through his body. When he got like this, he couldn’t rest, not until he was able to express himself the best way he knew how. After stepping into his walk-in closet and fishing through his instruments, Calion found the object of his desire.

His bell drum, an instrument forged in shiny steel and shaped into a large disk with mounds protruding from its surface. Within the mounds sat tiny balls that ranged from high to low pitches when the mounds were struck. Making his way back to his bedside, Calion dropped to the floor, sitting with his legs crossed as he placed the drum on his lap. His mother wanted him asleep, but that didn’t mean Calion couldn’t make the most of the night anyhow.

Calion drew in a deep breath and held it there for a second, his fingers hovering over the mounds of his drum. He closed his eyes and smiled. A brilliant light cast itself along his vision and chased away the darkness.

It was the same as it always was every time he closed his eyes.  

Chapter Text

“W-wait.” In his attempt to block the savage hit, Calion sputtered. “Skarlia, please.” He panted as he tired and failed to dodge another one of the woman’s wild swipes. This time, he was hit on his side, feeling a shock of pain reverberate along his ribcage.

“Come on and fight back, boy!” The woman nearly growled through clenched teeth. “What kind of prince do ya think ya are, lounging in the middle of a duel?” She said, taking another wild swing at him, smacking him across his head with the bo staff she held tightly in her grip.

“I'm not loun-” Calion attempted to argue, though being brought to a pause as Skarlia swiped at the mouth with the staff.

“Defend yourself!”

“Please- wait…” Calion held up his staff, his body flinching at the sound of wood colliding against wood. In his panic, the prince had blocked one of her ravenous attacks. The move was accidental, but even if it wasn’t, he hardly thought the woman would be any more impressed with his form. “You ask too much of me.” He staggered, lowering his staff when Skarlia gave him a taunting jab to the gut.

“Too much of ya?” That had gotten a little raspy chuckle out of the woman. “Are ya a Ventrexian prince or a hooblot street urchin?” She smirked down at him mockingly, twirling her staff in a show of miraculous skill and aiming it in his hunched-over direction. Say what he wanted to about his combat tutor, feel all the vitriol he would toward her, but at least she didn’t mince words around him. Not a lot of people would speak so freely around the prince like she did. “Defend ya self!” She bellowed, her smirk gone and replaced by an inflamed sneer.

Sighing wearily, Calion raised his staff to her again. His tutor, Skarlia, was his least favorite out of the many teachers Calion had to put up with. She was a tough woman, the daughter of a rather crass and boorish baron and a tried and true warrior of the Ventrexian royal army who had seen plenty of conflict in her day. She had fought Tryvuulians during the TrexTryvuul wars, butchered her fair share of Geltian mercenaries, and had led many efforts to subdue violent upstarts, revolts, rebellions, and coup d’etats around Ventrexia and her many off-world colonies. 

Her fur was a shade of ashen gray with black stripes splattered along her body from head to toe. Her body was toned, her abs glistened from beneath her fur, and the muscles in her arms flexed almost without effort. Her physique was practically statuesque, and if Calion hadn’t known, he’d attest that the gods themselves might have chiseled her from the toughest stone on Ventrexia. Like most Ventrexian women and men who would fulfill the role in same sex relationships, she was a mother. Though she hardly spoke about her children aside from criticizing Calion by comparing his prowess in combat to theirs. He couldn’t fathom the woman with children. She was an uncompromising hardass with a sense of honor to rival his cousin Nikos’ and didn’t seem to enjoy the company of children all that much. 

For the woman to have wooed any man to conceive offspring with her seemed a ridiculous thought, almost impossible even. Calion felt bad for her kids. He couldn’t fathom dealing with the woman beyond the two hours he had already spent with her, let alone a possible lifetime.

“Come!” Her holler echoed off the walls of the training room as she raised her staff with a white knuckled grip. Before Calion knew it, the woman had taken another slashing swing at him. He ducked out of the way, just barely avoiding another smack to the head. “Ya’re  lounging again!”

“I’m not-” She brought her staff down on his head, silencing him with a swift thwack. Calion stumbled backward again, holding a hand to his braided head. “Ow, Skarl-” His cries of pain were cut short once more as the woman lunged toward him with a flurry of monstrous swings. She poked at him swiftly, unleashing a salvo of jabs to his ribs and smacks across the face. She smacked at his hands, forcing him to drop his staff, and swung at his legs, sweeping them and sending him tumbling to the cushioned ground below.

“Pathetic.” Skarlia groaned, a palpable disappointment within her gruff tone. “Is this all the future ruler of this kingdom has to offer? Our people are doomed.” Calion looked up at her, his expression growing angry with the words she had dared to speak. A certain fire had lit itself in him at that moment, and in an instant, he was off the ground and back to his feet. He ran to his staff, scooping it up. He pointed the staff toward her, teeth clenched and a clawed grip so tight he thought he might draw blood.

“What did you say?” He bared his fangs and growled, his nose twitching with anger as he quickly fell into a combat-ready stance.

“Oh, has the prince finally woken up?” Despite his rageful demeanor, Skarlia didn’t seem bothered. Instead, she looked happy, satisfied that the prince was now ready to fight. She prepared herself, ready to take whatever he had to throw at her.

Calion wasted no time closing the gap between them. He swung first, poking, jabbing, and hitting at any opening in her defenses he could find. He moved like a wild boar, his swings having no sense of control or elegance, or tact in their strategy. Skarlia blocked every hit, parried every stabbing jab, weaved every sporadic swipe that was thrown as the sound of wood clashing against wood echoed in Calion’s ears and the room and the halls of the great palace. Still, he didn’t stop swinging. He beat against her staff until his hands went static and his arms grew sore, he moved until his knees felt weak and his legs might give out beneath him, he growled until he thought his teeth would snap, and he could feel rageful tears fill his eyes, and still he fought on. Calion would do anything to beat her now, fight like a wild animal if he had to, but by the end, Skarila was more determined to win.

She ducked one of the prince's wild swings, coming back and twirling a swing toward him, knocking the staff free from Calion’s hot grip. Immediately, all the anger he had felt for her was gone, and Calion was left in a state of bewilderment. Skarlia then rushed toward him, a gust of wind blowing through his fur, before she instantly vanished from his sight like a phantom. After an awe-struck moment, a clawed hand from behind gripped around his cheeks as his body was pulled close to another. Calion froze, his spine stiffening like a stone pillar as he was unable to comprehend what had just occurred.

“I have ya now.” In a gruff tone, Skarlia said, holding him in place. Her hand was pressed against his mouth so tightly that he could barely feel the air pass through his throat. Calion couldn’t move, could hardly breathe as she held him in a near headlock. “What will ya do?” Calion was silent, his mind still in a state of disbelief at how fast she was able to get behind him. What could he do? He could do nothing. She was faster than him, stronger, had more experience, and was a more capable fighter. What could he possibly do against her now?

“Skarlia, please.” Calion began softly. He knew he was beaten and had resorted to pleading. He was tired and sore. He just wanted to be let go.

“Please!?” She spat. “Will the enemy afford ya the luxury of pleas? Do ya think they will simply lay down their arms and offer foot rubs and full body massages because ya asked nicely?" Again, Calion said nothing in response. “Bloody hell.” She scoffed, releasing the boy as he stumbled forward. She circled back around him and squatted to meet him at eye level. “Is that really all you have?” Calion did not speak. He averted his eyes, too ashamed to look at his tutor for longer than a split second. “My prince, look at me.” Skarlia sighed, her tone softening in a way Calion had not heard before. It was enough to get him to bring his gaze to her again. “This is important for you. A king must know how to defend his honor in the face of adversity. He must be willing to lead his soldiers into battle and to lay down his life for his people. To be king is more than some prissy title. Ya’re everything to this kingdom, the most precious of all of us. If ya can not be the example of Ventrexia’s might, what do you think would become of the people, of you're family, and the great houses? I know it may seem harsh, my prince, but you must fight tooth and tail for yer people, for yerself, lest this kingdom fall into ruin.” She placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Shall we continue?” Calion remained quiet before her. However, she was being more gentle than he was used to; he still could not bring himself to speak. His pride was demolished, and his body was begging for some relief.

“I'm just so exhausted, Skarlia.” He spoke finally, his eyes trailing away from the woman once again. By now, his tail was in his hands as he rubbed it softly between his fingers. She bowed her head with his response before standing up again. Her disappointment was clear, but she would not argue any further.

“So be it.” She said, adjusting the chest bindings that held her breasts in place. “We shall take a half hour's rest. Then ya will return ready to defeat me.”

-/-/-/-

The rest of Calion’s day was easy going compared to that morning. Skarlia had put him through the ringer after their short break. Despite how gentle she had become for that brief moment, it didn’t stop the woman’s vicious approach to training him. She never let up even for a moment, her jabs and strikes seemingly becoming more cruel after their little rest. He felt as if he’d received more of a disciplinary beating than training. She had gone harder on him that day, and he didn’t understand why. Maybe she was fed up with him, and his lack of talent in combat was possibly starting to vex her to no end.

He was only glad it was over. His lesson afterward was far more preferable to what Skarlia had to teach him. Mathematics, compared to combat training, was a walk in the proverbial park for Calion. It was more general studies, one of a handful he had to take (alongside history, science, and Ventrexian language classes) to keep his wits about him since he didn't attend school. Mathematics was mind-numbing at the best of times and outright melatonin-inducing at the worst.

What he cared about far more than math, however, was religious studies. Learning of the gods and their exploits never failed to amuse and entertain Calion. Today was meant as a touch-up lesson for only a few of the gods, that being Cala and their on-again, off-again husband, Lio. Cala was the god of all things beautiful on Ventrexia. They were an androgynous finger, having no set gender, and were usually depicted with pure white fur, wide, fertile hips, a flat chest with strong arms and broad shoulders to match. Cala was often referred to as the mother-father, and it was said that they helped Ventrexia shape the land’s natural beauty with storms and floods that would rage for days. They helped create the oceans, canyons, rivers, plants, animals, and trees. It was often said that Koro flowers (For which were named after one of their children, the god of mischief, tricky and jubilee, who was said to be as beautiful as he was thorny) were their favorite plants among the many they created. Ventrexians who expressed themselves as androgynous or were naturally born somewhere in between were normally referred to as Cala’s blessed.

The other god, Lio, was the symbol of Ventrexia's pride. He was depicted as a large man with fiery orange fur and a row of black strips cut along his back. It was said that on Ventrexia’s command, he would imbue her children with free will and usher in the age of enlightenment. He would give the men the tenacity of warrior angels and the women the strength to tame their rage. He and Cala’s relationship was complicated, to say the least. They would separate many times, arguing with one another in the form of star-shattering combat and causing great calamity as they did. It was often said that great storms and earthquakes were the cause of their arguments, only being brought to an end when Femmbala, the goddess of love and union between souls, would step in and reunite their union under her guidance. 

The prince chuckled to himself, imagining the Ventrexians of old and their annoyance with the two lovers and their long spats.

Now Calion was stalking the halls of the northern end of the palace, a book in one hand and the other folded regally behind his back. He could still feel the aftermath of his earlier training, a few welts over his head, some bruises here and there, and a lot of soreness. 

The book he’d been buried in was Repertoire of the Unifier, the biography of Meowmar the Great. Ever since the other day, amid his parents ' aggressive disagreement, Calion wanted to get to the bottom of the discrepancies surrounding Meowmar. The prince thought it would be as easy as choosing the book with the highest recommendation, but the contradictions and inconsistencies were vast, leading him to take several books from the grand library.

Take, for example, the battle at Ri’an ridge. It was stated that Meowmar had taken on one thousand Ventrexians all by himself. Other sources claimed he led the enemies into the canyon where his men sat in wait and rained down a hail of arrows once the enemy was too committed to their pursuit to retreat. The book he read now would say that Meowmar led three hundred men against three thousand in that same battle, which seemed plausible to Calion if not equally ridiculous. His story wasn’t so clear, and before the play, Calion would have thought nothing of it. Had his father not said anything, he wouldn’t have occupied his time doing so much research for a story that had more holes than fine cheese. Not even his tutors worked him as hard as he was working himself trying to understand Meowmar’s tale.

If only Calion could talk to the man, but unfortunately, he lived thousands of years ago, and unless the prince had a personal time machine, there was a less than scarce chance that it was ever going to happen.

“Great.” Calion sighed and closed the book shut. He felt like he was getting nowhere fast. Before he knew it, the day would be over, and he would have spent it trying to get his father's words out of his head. “Embellished.” He repeated to himself under a skeptical breath. Why would they need to embellish anything about Meowmar anyway? Was his story not great enough as it was? Calion couldn’t find the enthusiasm to care, and there were better things to do with his time than to read about the same battle over and over ad nauseam. Noticing he had reached his destination, Calion turned down a hall, descending an old spiral staircase, and entered a long, inadequately lit corridor.

Calion stepped through a set of doors leading to the palace kitchens with a smile on his face. As he entered, a sweet scent wafted past his nostrils that stopped him in his tracks. The smell of chocolate, his favorite kind, and the sound of pans clattering and cooks chattering cluttered his senses. After a moment of bewildering awe, Calion would begin to walk through the kitchens, no one noticing his presence as he did.

The kitchens were enormous, with arched white stone pillars that climbed up to the ceiling. The interior of the kitchens, compared to the rest of the palace, was dull and made up of old, fading brick walls. Toward the back, built into the dull brick walls, were a row of wood-burning ovens, all blazing with the scent of something delectable. To the opposite end, past the large arched doorways, the stoves were burning and topped with pots and pans that sizzled with meats, vegetables, and rice. Since the early evening had arrived, the cooks were hard at work preparing dinner for the family. 

Calion loved visiting the kitchens when he had the time, either in between breaks in his study or afterward. Though with his recent studies, he had been getting down there later and later, which he found to be quite the shame. Calion liked to think of the kitchens as a bit of a refuge. A place where he could be himself that wasn’t his room. 

The cooks always seemed to be working, and as a result, the place was always easy on the nose. Sometimes he wished he worked down there alongside them, but he knew that could never be. A prince cooking for himself when he didn’t need to was a ludicrous idea and one no one would entertain even for a moment. The only downside he could say he saw, or rather felt, with the kitchens was how hot it normally was. It felt like a desert compared to the rest of the palace. He didn’t know how the cooks could stand to work down there for long periods, especially fully clothed. 

“Ah, little Calion.” Calion’s ears perked up at the sound of the voice that called to him. He looked to see a man with light brown fur, stirring a bowl of white chocolate over a countertop. The man smiled back. “Your studies have already concluded, my young prince? You’re down here a sight earlier than usual.”

“Yeah,” Calion said, a joyful squeak in his tone. “I didn’t have much today. Just some touching up on maths and gods and stuff.”

“Ah, maths and gods-... uh…” He gasped. His smile fell from his face as a look of concern overwhelmed him, the closer Calion came. “Oh, Ventrexia, my prince.” He placed the bowl he was mixing on the counter, letting the spoon dangle off the brim as he turned his full attention to Calion. He gently lifted his chin with his fingers and turned Calion's head as he began to examine the prince's fur. “You’re covered in bruises. What in creation happened to you?”

“Oh…” Calion was given pause at the mention of his injuries. "It's nothing, Purrice, just combat training. Skarlia was a little rough today.”

“Ah, Skarlia.” He sneered, disgusted as the name left his mouth. “That woman. When is she going to learn that she’s training a prince and not some run-of-the-mill jackboot?” Purrice sighed as his eyes traced over the welts on Calion’s head.

“It’s fine, really. She says I have to be strong for my people and that a few cuts and bruises were expected along that path.”

“My prince- Cal…” He huffed, frustrated. “You’re just a child. Prince or not, an elder should not do such a thing to you.” He said, refusing to take his eyes off the young prince for a moment. “I’ll get you something for it.”

“Purrice, honestly, I'm fine-”

“Ah, ah, wait here. I’ll be back.” He shushed the boy, not wanting to hear any talk back on the matter. The man then stepped away, and not a moment later, he was back with a first aid kit in hand. “Come, come.”  He placed a hand over the boy’s shoulder and hurried him out of the kitchens. Purrice was a kind man. He always treated Calion as if he were his own family. By that point, he partially felt as if he were. Purrice had been working as a palace cook for 2 years, this one being his third, and despite his short tenure, Calion had clung to him like a child to his favorite doll. He was a dessert maker and made some of the best sweets in the city of Ventrex, if not this side of the planet. 

Purrice escorted Calion back into the hall leading toward the spiral staircase. He sat the boy down on a nearby bench, opening the first aid kit and pulling out the supplies within. “Okay,” he began, lathering a cloth in a light blue gel. “Stay still. This might hurt a little.” He brought the cloth up to Calion’s forehead and lightly touched it to one of his bruises. Calion flinched when the rag made contact and hissed at the sharp pain. “I told you it would hurt.” Purrice chuckled.

“You said it might.”

“Same difference, right?”

“Not at all.” Despite the pain, Calion would find it in him to giggle along with the man. Purrice continued, touching up the bruises on Calion’s face, the welts over his head, and the blisters and lashes over his fingers and legs the best he could.

“Hmmm…” Purrice hummed idly as he placed the rag gently against Calion’s head this time. “I still think a child shouldn’t be hit by his elders. Just look at you. I understand that you’re the prince and all. You’re supposed to lead by example, but at what point does your will being come before all that?”

“Yeah.” Calion let a slalom sigh escape him. “I don’t really like it either, but I think I understand. Still, I would much rather make music than fight any day.”

“You are a talented musician, Cal. Usually, when you’re practicing in the gardens near the kitchen, I can hear you from the windows, and it makes my day."

“You can hear that?” A hot blush grew in Calion’s cheeks.

“Yup, we all can. You make some of the sweetest melodies.” His blush had only grown hotter. “I didn’t know. If I knew I had an audience, I would have taken care to make my sessions sound better.”

“You can sound better than you already do?” The man shook his head with a chuckle and brought the rag back to Calion’s head, inducing another pained groan. 

Calion didn’t realize just how badly hurt he was, each slight tap with the cloth in the man's hand bringing about a new spike of pain. The boy couldn’t help but hiss anytime the rag made contact with his fur. Skarlia really did a number on him. More than that. She had embarrassed him, choked him within an inch of his life. He should be angry with her, should report her to his parents, and have Nikos and the guards toss her out of the palace, yet he knew that might not work out in his favor. Skarlia had been training Calion for a while now. In that time, his parents were bound to notice some cuts and bruises, and still they kept her on as his trainer. 

Maybe if he told Nikos and pleaded for him to be rid of the woman, he might do so. No, he would have to get permission from the king or queen first, and Calion doubted they would let someone so renowned go for a bump or two. The worst part was that no one seemed to notice his injuries, not the other tutors, not the guards that passed him by in the halls of the palace, or the servants cleaning the rooms. The only one who had taken notice thus far was Purrice.

Calion was afraid he was stuck with the woman, but even so, was it that bad? The softness of her tone still rang through his ears, her gentle features ran through his mind, and her words repeated almost endlessly. He had to fight tooth and tail for his people… for himself. Calion wanted to believe the woman had good intentions. He couldn’t accept that she was a sadist who liked beating on kids.

“There we go,” Purrice said, packing the supplies back into the first aid kit. Calion looked at his hands. They had been covered in small white bandages. He could still feel his cuts beneath, but he couldn’t feel them as much.

“Thank you, Purrice.” Calion purred. “For a dessert maker, you make for a pretty good nurse as well.”

“Eh. I got one year of medical care from university under my belt. I can mend a bone as well as I can make you a fudge cake, Cal.” He lifted the boy's chin, another warm smile stretching along his lips. “Come on. I still have some desserts to make. I’ll even let you lick the spoon when I’m done.”

“Really!” Calion jumped off the bench, paying no mind to the pain that came as his feet hit the ground. The prince thought he should probably hide his injuries from Nikos. He wouldn’t know what the man might do if he found out Skarlia had hurt him worse than usual. Minor as they were, he didn’t want his cousin to get into any trouble on his behalf.

Purrice led Calion back into the kitchens. The other cooks were still too busy working to notice he was there, and the prince wouldn’t interrupt their work just to let them know. Calion stood close to Purrice, watching him as he mixed chocolate, baked pies, and applied the icing to a large cake. As promised, by the time he was done with most of his work, the man would let Calion lick the spoon he’d used to stir the chocolate.

Without a doubt, Calion would claim that Purrice’s chocolate was some of the best he’d ever had. It was so milky sweet with eggy undertones, and it melted on the tongue smoothly, lacing the taste buds with a thick layer of sweetness that would stay with you for days. Calion always asked him how he got so good at baking, and Purrice would simply reply, “Time and practice.” Calion would always chuckle at that. He knew how true the statement was. Calion took great care to practice his music every day. Even still, he felt that there had to be something more to it than just time and practice. There had to be some inherent talent in the art of baking, just like there was in combat. From as long as he could remember, Calion wanted to make music. He was drawn to it like a moth to a warm flame. If all it took was practice, having a routine in something, he felt he would have been far better at holding his own against Skarlia than he actually could. Calion often thought that if he could make chocolate the way Purrice did, he’d run away from the palace and start his own bake shop.

“My prince!” Calion was given a start, his tongue still molesting the spoon in his mouth. The head chef, finally noticing he had been there, stormed over with an appalled expression. “What on Ventrexia are you doing down here at this hour? It is most unsightly for one such as you.” He bowed his head apologetically before turning to the cook next to him. “Purrice! Have you been bothering the prince!?”

“No-no. I was-”

“Enough!” The man shushed him with a wave of his hand. “Hurry and help prepare the entrees. We do not want the royal family to have to wait for their meal, do we?”

“No, sir.” 

“Then go!” He rushed Purrice off and twirled back around to the prince with a more timid posture. “My prince, forgive me, but you must go prepare for dinner.”

“Hold on, it’s fine, I-” Calion began to challenge the man, but before he knew it, he was being pushed out of the kitchens against his will.

“No, no. The state of this kitchen is not suitable for your eyes at the moment.” The chef shooed him out of the exit, and nothing he could say would be enough to stop him from ushering Calion away from the scene.

Calion stared at the large doors leading to the kitchens. From the other side, he could hear the chef chewing out the other cooks, mostly Purrice. Calion felt awful for the cook. Purrice had been on thin ice with the head chef for a while now, and despite the prince asking him to go a bit easier on the dessert maker, those requests often fell on deaf ears.

He sighed, feeling the sting of defeat for the second time that day. “Great.” 

Chapter Text

“How’s this?”

“Hmmm.” Calion leaned over, peering out past the blank canvas that stood tall before him, and to a man on the other end. “Maybe…” He squinted, unsure if that particular angle was to his liking. “Maybe a little more to the left.” With an accepted nod, the man moved a few paces to where Calion had pointed him.

“How about now?” He struck a rather dramatic pose, hugging one arm around his chest and holding the other above his head.

“Hmmm…” Calion let another uncertain hum fill the space. “A little to the right,” Calion suggested, and the man took heed. Calion looked at him with a wink. He held a thumb out, attempting to measure the distance between his subject and the canvas. “A scooch to the left and back a bit.”

“Of course, my prince. You are the artist." The man followed Calion’s instructions, moving left and backward before striking yet another glamorous pose.

Calion smiled at him, finally certain that they could begin. Recently, the prince had been practicing his painting, specifically portrait painting. Calion was never one to brag, but he felt himself a fine painter. He could replicate a piece of scenery, an environment, or a landscape effortlessly, whether it be one of the many rooms of the grand palace or the ponds, trees, and flowers of the gardens. If it existed in creation, Calion could draw it, and he could paint it. Where he succeeded in scenery composition, however, he lacked somewhat in figure painting, as anatomy wasn’t his strong suit, to say the least. He always found it difficult to paint actual people. For him, there came a great deal of understanding he seemed to lack. There was always something to worry about in his mind. The shade of a person’s fur, the details of their face, snout, and the clothes they wore. There was something more intricate to painting another living being. Unlike a flower, a person was more likely to take offense at the way they were perceived. Calion had seen firsthand how angry some lords and ladies could get when the artist they hired to paint them took any amount of liberty with their likeness.

Calion wanted to practice that style of painting to avoid a situation like that. Even if he wasn’t obligated to paint anyone, there was no harm in a bit of practice to keep his skills sharp with a brush. Nevertheless, all that practice wouldn’t matter if he could never find the perfect subject to pose for him. He could have asked his mother or father, those two have had plenty of priorities painted of them over the years, but they were far too busy. He could have asked his uncle Catomar, Purrice would have also been a good candidate, or maybe one of the guards or servants. He was sure someone around the palace would indulge him, though he didn’t want to risk getting any of them in trouble for abandoning their stations. 

Nikos often came to mind. The man wasn’t a fan of portraits, but Calion felt his feelings were just a matter of perspective and that possibly receiving a nice painting from someone he was close to would sway his opinion on the subject. He could have tried his luck there, but after some thought, he couldn't imagine his cousin would be willing to stand still for longer than a minute or so. Nikos was constantly on the move. Clarion thinks that his cousin thought he had to be sometimes. If he wasn’t doing anything, then you could assume he was dead. He liked to keep himself working, and Calion knew that asking him to help with something as peripheral as painting would have been too tall an order, even for him. For a while, Calion felt lost, stuck on what to do next. But even with all of his options, the answer should have been clear from the start. He already had the perfect candidate for the job.

“Are we ready to get started?” The man asked, keeping his pose steady. He stood like a statue carved out of the finest stone, still, lifeless, and beautiful. The only sign of emotion that told Calion he was indeed a living being was the subtle rising and falling of his chest as he pulled in gentle breaths.

“Definitely ready, Cookie." A proud smile raced along his lips as he nodded at the man. “You look perfect, by the way.”

“Aww, Calion. Why, thank you.” Cookie cooed, his posture unbroken. He had done something like this before, possibly many times throughout his career in the arts. He wasn’t Calion’s art tutor for no reason, and there was no better person for the job in the young prince's eyes. His body was perfect, a complex mix of feminine and masculine attributes that brought out the best of both worlds. 

His waist was small, and his legs were on the thicker side. His arms weren’t the strongest, and his shoulders were slim, but they cut a no less attractive figure. He was tall, made taller by the boots he wore, his fur was as white as the tundras of the extreme north, save for the light brown strip running from his nose and up the center of his forehead, and his face was nearly indistinguishable from male or female. He was the pinnacle of beauty, even at his young age. Calion could see that. A person truly blessed by Cala’s touch.  

His sense of style was also as complex as his figure. Like most young Ventrexians, Cookie took vastly to the fashion of Earth. Earth clothes had become popular on Ventrexia in recent years, and it only made sense that someone as eccentric as his mentor would be a part of such a trend. He wore a pair of pink slacks with a chain hanging from the right pocket, black leather platform boots that elevated his already tall stature, and a black long-sleeved shirt that buttoned at the collar.

Like most of his tutors, Cookie had been training Calion in the arts for years, starting when he was about five or so. He was Calion’s youngest teacher, a man who had made quite the wave in the art world in his teenage years. A runaway from home, he spent most of his time on the streets of Ventrex, fostering his skills with a brush and pencil. His name wasn’t really Cookie, but it was the name he chose to go by in place of his birth name. Calion didn’t know his whole story, but he knew the young man was homeless for a time when he was younger. It’s not something he usually cared to talk about, but it wasn’t a subject Calion wanted to broach if the man was determined to leave it buried. Now, all these years later, he was a well-renowned artist teaching the prince of his people in the royal family's grand palace. It was funny how life could work out sometimes. Calion would have given anything to experience the streets like Cookie had, as strange as it might have sounded coming from a person in his position.

Calion loved Cookie dearly. About the only lessons the young prince enjoyed learning revolved around the arts. Painting, writing, poetry, and music. Those things spoke to Calion more than anything ever could, and Cookie nurtured and encouraged his passions vehemently. Out of the bunch, that made the young man his favorite tutor of all. He was a welcome presence around the Palace, even if he and Skarlia didn’t see eye to eye.

The woman thought his art lessons were a waste of time for the prince, that the only art that mattered was the art of war, and the only music that should have been made was a symphony of screams from the enemy. Naturally, the two tried their best to steer clear of one another, but the palace was only so big. Enormous, yes, but never big enough to completely avoid one another. When they did happen to run into one another, an argument was never far behind. Calion’s mind drifted to Skarlia then, the memory of his time spent with her beating against his mind like her training staff. He could still feel the bruises, welts, and cuts beneath the bandages Purrice had carefully applied to his hands. The wounds may heal, but not much was going to drive the woman from his mind.  

“Calion?” Cookie spoke, gently tugging Calion’s attention toward him. “You seemed to be drifting. Something wrong?”

“Oh-” Calion shook his head with a quick, surprised jolt. “Sorry-sorry.” He said, pressing the edge of the pencil to the blank white surface of his canvas. Calion needed to draw out the man's figure and thought starting with the body would be easiest from the angle he stood in. “Just… thinking.”

“Hmmm.” He hummed curiously. “Of what may I ask?”

“Uhh.” Calion ceased his penciling for a moment as his mind was dragged back to thoughts of the woman and the bruises and cuts she’d given him. His mouth fell open, but the name struggled to leave his tongue. “Skarlia.” He whispered nearly out of fear. The pain was still so apparent even now as he tried to hold his pencil still in his hand.

“Ugh, her. Why on earth would you be thinking about that woman at a time like this? You should be focused on capturing the subject before you, not the garish boor that beats you over the head with a stick.”

“I know.” Calion squeaked out, returning to penciling out his tutor’s form on the canvas. “She can be a bit mean, I noticed.” He said, casting long flowing pencil strokes down the center of the canvas. “I understand I’m not the best fighter, but I don’t think she understands that. She treats me like I'm a fully grown Ventrexian. She’s always comparing me to others, and she never eases up on me. Just the other day, she-” Calion stopped himself, careful not to mention the extent of his injuries. Cookie looked at him with a raised brow as his smile fell from his picturesque face. “She really let me have it for two hours.”

“Oh, hon.” He began, still as solid as a rock for the prince. “She’s a soldier, she can’t help but be unkind. Most soldiers are like her. Cold, uncaring, brutish thugs with no sense of tact or grace about them.”

“Well, that's not true.” Calion chuckled uncomfortably. “I know soldiers who are nice… My cousin Nikos is one of the kindest men I know.”

“Hon.” Cookie shook his head, the only bit of movement he had shown up to that point. “Your cousin may not be as kind as you think.”

Calion paused his penciling again for a moment. “How so?” Reluctantly, he asked, not completely understanding what his tutor meant.

“Nikos is a rigid man. He is as angry as a wild, rampaging beast and as thorny as a rose stem. He can be a cruel man, not the kind to give leeway, especially when it comes to your safety. Just last week, I heard he had two men transferred to the frontlines, and you want to know why. Uniform violations around your quarters.”

Calion’s brows furrowed as he arched his neck to the side. “Nikos-” Ready to argue in favor of his cousin, Calion stopped dead. He knew Nikos was a stern man and not one that would stand for any form of misconduct so long as he was in charge. In the three months he had spent as lord Catomar’s replacement as the captain of the royal guard, Calion had seen his cousin give out plenty of terrible verbal lashings and corporal punishments left and right. “...Would probably do that…” Calion admitted after some thought, his eyes drifting away from his canvas. The royal guards were supposed to be some of the best soldiers and knights the kingdom had to offer. They needed to be the best to serve the king and queen directly. If a guard couldn’t be bothered to keep their uniform pressed and speckless, they most likely weren't worth keeping around. 

“Ummhmm. Nikos is kind when he can be, but don’t mistake his leniency for kindness.” Cookie hummed as the smile returned to his face. “But don’t think about that right now. All you should be focusing on is the subject at hand. Focus on my form, keep your pen strokes light, and make them heavy when you want more detail. Then once you’re finished, we can continue to the painting aspect."

“Right.” Calion sighed solemnly, pushing his cousin to the back of his mind, and did as he was instructed. He put all of his focus into the canvas. He tuned out the room around him, silenced his thoughts, and focused on nothing else but his tutor. For an hour, Calion sat and drew his tutor, and for an hour, the man hadn’t moved, only offering the prince kind reassurances every now and again. Calion thought he was amazing, disciplined in his dedication and determined to help the young prince overcome any artistic blockage that might have obscured his learning.

Once Calion had finished drawing his teacher, he took a step back to admire his work. He didn’t do too badly, a proportion or two was off, but that was to be expected when learning something new. Cookie would tell him, “to expect perfection was to invite failure,” and the prince would try to live by those words, even if most of his life called for perfection in one way or another.

He placed his pencil down and picked up a paintbrush, along with a palette, next. He dipped the bristles into the palette, mixing one color with another, before bringing the brush to the canvas. He pressed gently against his newly made drawing, committing to light strokes so as not to ruin his hard work immediately. He was meticulous in his maneuvering, deliberate in his pace, and careful with the colors he used. 

Calion was grateful to have someone like Cookie around for his practice sessions. He thought no other being could have the tenacity, fortitude, or patience to be as devoted to stillness as his mentor had been at that moment. Hours had passed, maybe three or so, and the man was still as solid as a stone. He kept his one pose for longer than most people’s attention spans would allow, and to Calion, that was the most impressive thing. His tutor was truly a man dedicated to his craft, and he knew Calion was the same in that respect.

“Okay.” Calion chirped happily, his fur and clothes were caked in oil paint, but he didn’t care. The prospect of creation outweighed the need for staying clean by a great deal. Had anyone allowed it, he would have stayed covered in the glistening substance for days. Though that would be unbecoming of him, therefore, a nice bath was needed after this grueling excursion.

“Good.” Cookie, finally breaking character as a fabulous statue, began stretching his arms over his head. “Let's have a look.” He said, swaying flamboyantly past the canvas, and stood beside Calion. “Ahh.” His eyes lit up as his smile broadened over his lips. “It’s so beautiful, Calion. You really did my behind justice.” Cookie chuckled, running a hand over his rear end.

“Yeah, sorry if you're a bit slimmer in the portrait.” Calion rubbed sheepishly at one ear with a chuckle.

“No worries, Calion. Practice makes perfect. Always remember that.” Calion nodded, content with the response. 

As the two continued to examine the prince’s work, a heavy rapping came at the door, startling Calion, though Cookie didn’t seem as shaken. “Cousin,” a voice from the other end came booming in the silence of the space. “I'm coming in.” Without waiting for proper permission, the door opened, and a shadow-clad face appeared from the other side. “Cousin-” Nikos stepped in and was immediately given pause. The state of Calion’s appearance seemed to take him aback. “Cousin, what is the meaning of this?” He closed the distance to the prince and began to look him over. Like a concerned parent, Nikos was far from happy with the state of the prince’s appearance. “Cookie, how could you let my prince cousin fall into such an ungodly state?” He looked at the tutor next, his indignation growing far more profound.

“Hello to you, too, lord Nikos.” Wryly, he grinned, giving the lord captain an overly dramatic bow that caused Calion to chuckle beneath his breath. A stern look from Nikos silenced him with a quick and uneasy cough. “We were merrily practicing Calion’s figure painting. Your cousin is becoming quite the artist, wouldn’t you agree? I’d hate to starve the creativity from such a talented boy.”

Nikos gave him an aggravated hum before looking at Calion again. The sternness in his face had softened as he stared, the prince's indecent state seemingly no longer so much of a concern.

“So be it.” He sighed. “My prince, back to the reason for my intrusion.” He offered the boy a half-bow, the kind Calion often got from him. “I come bearing a gift. I was instructed by the king and queen to bring it to you,” he said before pulling out a sleek black device. “They informed me that you would find it most enjoyable."

“Wait.” Calion gasped at the devices in his cousin's hands, his jew nearly hitting the paint-splashed floor as he gaped upon it in wonder. “Is that a-”

"Helix 4. Van Newton industries, if I am correct. Your mother and father said you would be excited to have one, though I think they may have underestimated how much.” Nikos gave a dry chuckle, but Calion was still too mystified by the object to notice. The prince had been asking for a communications device for a while, specifically a Helix, but try as he might, he could never sway his parents to allow him one. Apparently, that was the case until now anyway.

“Is it real?” Was all he could think to ask in his amazement.

“I should hope.” Nikos shrugged, bringing up Calion’s right arm and carefully stripping the device onto his wrist. Calion stumbled back, his wonder only deepening as he smoothed a finger over the surface of the sleek comms device not fastened to his arm. He pressed a finger against the screen of the comm, and in a moment, a blue light illuminated his vision as the logo for Van Newton industries manifested in a hologram that shone above the screen.

“W-... why? Why now? What's the occasion?” He asked, wasting no time in tinkering and tampering with the device and all its features.

“Your mother and father… they felt it would be a kind gesture given how hard you have been working. You should be appreciative of such kind parents.” Calion, taking his eyes off the device, looked up at Nikos, a pang of suspicion gleaming in his eye as he watched his cousin. The prince couldn’t help but find this a bit too convenient. His parents had denied him any form of entertainment that wasn’t physical books and his studies. They would allow him to watch holovision, normally keeping him sequestered to children's shows, though, however, the occasional Thimbles match was allowed from time to time.

However, as quickly as it had come, his suspicion all but dissipated as he gazed back down at the helix. A broad smile crept onto his face. “Thank you, cousin.” Calion squealed, impulsively throwing his arms around his cousin's waist. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He praised over and over again as he clung to Nikos.

“Please, cousin. Your parents are the ones to thank. It would be disingenuous of me to take credit for this.” Nikos declared, placing his hands on Calion’s shoulders and doing his best to ease the boy's joy. Calion didn’t listen, however. He didn’t care who allowed him to have the device. Nikos was the one to deliver it. That deserved all the thanks on Ventrexia. After a moment that seemed longer, Calion would finally separate from the man and run back over to his tutor.

“Cookie, cookie, look what I got.” His face beamed brighter than a star as he flushed the device at Cookie. 

“Oooooh, it’s beautiful, Calion." He cooed, leaning over to examine the device along with the boy. “You know I have one just like it.”         

Chapter Text

Calion was walking through the halls, not really paying much attention to where he’d been going. Ever since getting his Helix 4, the boy had been infatuated with the device. He spent every waking moment on it, feverishly downloading apps and games, and tinkering with the settings. When he wasn’t on it, he thought about it, during his studies, while taking baths, while eating, and even when he slept, he dreamed about it. Not a moment passed when Calion’s attention wasn’t buried in the device, and he always seemed to have a smile plastered on his face as he toyed with his new toy.

He had butterflies in his stomach. The shock of joy that jolted through his fur was undeniable and unmatched by anything save for his music-making. This was the most fun he’d had in some time, and he didn’t usually get to have fun. What was most shocking to him, however, was that the device was completely unrestricted. From what he could gather, the device's perinatal controls had not been set up for the Helix before receiving it. Due to that lack of protection, the young prince was able to access many sites across the galaxy-wide net.

Calion thought it strange that his parents would allow him access to a device that could show him the whole galaxy at the press of his finger when just weeks ago they had barely let him watch children's cartoons alone. He thought it was strange. He thought anyone would find it strange. Maybe his parents had been seeing how suffocating and overbearing they were with him, and that allowing him this little freedom was the least they could do for his years spent skulking around the palace with no one to really talk to besides guards, servants, and, when they would occasionally stop by, cousins.

Whatever the case, Calion was no less ecstatic. He immediately started experimenting with the Helix’s net features. Visiting all the sites he could stumble upon. He found so much in his few hours of searching and clicking. Cooking blogs, inquiry sites, chat rooms, message boards centered around shows and movies, social media, and even fanfic sites. By mistake, Calion had even clicked into an adult site, but immediately backed right out upon seeing the first few thumbnails. That kind of stuff terrified him.

Calion was no stranger to sex and the concept of it. His tutor in culture had trained him from a young age on the subject of Ventrexian courting rituals, gifts given, and what was expected of him once he found a mate. Even with his extensive and most likely excessive knowledge of Ventrexian mating habits, Calion felt he was not ready for such a task. He couldn’t explain it, but the thought of intimate romance, being physically entwined with another being, was a burden too heavy for his mind to bear properly. The thought made him feel strange, awkward in all the wrong places, almost like lovemaking was a thing that wasn't meant to be for him. He couldn’t fathom having sex with another, at least not as he was now, though maybe he would grow into it. He didn’t know for sure.

During Calion’s net surfing, he tended to flock to news sites often to read the many stories and watch what reports had been documented that day. Despite how boring most people would find the news to sit through, Calion appreciated it for what it was. The news was his only source to the outside world whenever he got the chance to watch it out of sight from his parents. It was another thing that was off limits to him for the most part, and Calion would have to do a lot of sneaking around to see what had been going on in Ventrexia’s day-to-day. He normally watched it with Purrice whenever he had the time. Now that he had his Helix, he could look into anything anytime he wanted, and one particular story had drawn his attention. 

Amid his browsing, Calion would stumble upon a recurring name, one he hadn’t really seen or heard of before. There were many reports of something called the shadow claw. The first time he saw the name, he figured it was some one-off story about a game or movie he didn’t bother to click into, but as he continued to browse, the name would resurface, this time with mentions of attacks all around the nation. Curious, Calion would finally do some digging, clicking into one story and another and another and so on. From what he could gather, this shadow claw was an active terrorist, one of Ventrerixa’s greatest enemies, some sites would call them. They were an enemy to the crown itself.

They, along with their army of warriors that went by the Gora, were perpetrators of many horrible actions around the nation. Bombings, kidnappings, assassinations, and inciting riots and anarchy among the colonies were some of their most infamous exploits. Calling them a troublemaker wouldn’t have been the half of it. They were a real danger, king killers, house destroyers, an affront to Ventrexia herself. Calion wondered how one could go about hurting their own people the way these beasts had.

“Is that why…?” Calion muttered amid the clacking of his boots along the refractive palace floor. “Is that why they keep me here? Is that why there are so many guards around?” The prince speculated, going over the many reasons his parents could have to keep him locked up in the palace like a precious diamond. Among the many he thought of, the reason pertaining to the shadow claw made the most sense to him. “Shadow claw…” He whispered, letting the name roll off his tongue like a forbidden curse. “Who are you?” He chuckled, thinking it was a fun mystery, though one he’d probably never end up solving. They were always said to be clad in shadowy robes, had wrist-mounted shotguns, and carried two curved swords on their hips. They said the shadow claw moved as quickly as a specter and fought as brutishly as a wind demon. From the depiction given, Calion couldn’t help but find them a bit intimidating, though he thought the stories behind them seemed exaggerated. He hardly thought anyone could fight that well or move that fast... “Maybe except for Skarlia…” Calion paused for a moment, thinking back to the woman, how viciously she fought him and how quickly she was able to subdue him. “No.” He shook his head. “Couldn’t be.” He reasoned that an assassin terrorist couldn’t get into the grand palace, and if they did, they wouldn’t spend years working for the king and queen. If the goal were to kill them, she would have done it by now. Calion felt it was just his mind getting the best of him.

“There you are, my prince.” With his eyes still glued to the screen of the device, Calion’s gaze is torn away as his attention comes to the guard waving him down from across the hall. 

“Huh?” Calion peered at the man. Immediately, big, broad shoulders greeted his sight. He was tall, towering over the prince like a great monolith. His fur was a shade of dark, smoky gray and layered on thickly. Him being from the extreme north meant that his fur was bound to come out thicker than the average Ventrexian. That also meant that any temperature above freezing was too warm for him. His ears were short and stubby and looked like they were folding down on his head, and his eyes were made of tranquil dark gold ponds. He was a sight of a man, one the prince had seen many times over the years, but he was only just transferred to full-time guard duty around the same time Nikos was made captain of the guard. He held a strong hand on the rifle strap slung around his big shoulders. His biceps rippled beneath his uniform as if it were skin-tight latex. He was just… big. If a truck had arms and legs, the man would be it. “Oh, hey, uhh…” Calion droned, his mind stalling for a moment before the massive guard.

“Oh, come now. Are you telling me you don’t remember your old pal Kedi?” The man threw out his arms, a large smile widening over his expression. 

“Old pal seems a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?”

“Oh my prince.” Kedi placed a hand over his chest as a dramatic frown pulled over his face in mock sadness. “You wound me deeply. Surely only one such as you could do so. How will I ever go on now?” He waved a hand over his head, feigning a faint. Calion stifled a laugh at Kedi’s dramatics.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to harm the fair maiden.” Calion humored the man.

“Ah, alas, I will live. Surely, I will live.” Calion laughed again, a bit more audibly this time.

“Sorry, Kedi. I really didn’t mean for your name to slip my mind. I was just distracted with my Helix.” Calion brought his eyes back to the device, running a gentle thumb over the screen. “Have you seen it?” He pointed his wrist at Kedi, practically shoving the Helix in the man's face.

“Mmmm.” He hummed, impressed. “It is nice. Not so many people can be as lucky as you, my prince. You'd better cherish it or I just might take it for myself.”

“I know. I do.” Calion said, lowering his arm and looking at the screen again. Try as he might, he could never take his eyes off the thing, but he never tried very hard to begin with.

“Oh, that reminds me of the task at hand.” Kedi tapped two fingers to the side of his head as he recalled why he had called the prince. “Your father sent me to fetch you.”

“Father?” Calion spoke, his eyes still attached to the Helix.

“Yes. You are to give a cordial greeting to members of house Cato and house Whisk.”

Calion stopped his tinkering with the device and slowly stared back up at the large man. “What?” He said, more annoyed than confused by what he had heard.

“A cordial greeting for house Cato and house Whisk.”

“No, I heard that I-” Calion sighed, keeping his fingers on the screen of his device. “Don’t I have to. Cordial greetings are so boring.”

“You know the rules. The other families can not entertain the king until greeted by the whole of the royal family.” He said. “That includes you, my prince.”

“But… but I was using my Helix.”

“No buts,” Kedi said, sternly yet gently. Not at all how Nikos would have if he spoke in the same manner to him. “The quicker you finish, the sooner you can get back to it. Please allow me to escort you.”

“Fine.” Calion huffed, dropping his arms to the side, and upset that the time he could have spent on his Helix was now going to the attention of visiting cousins.

-/-/-/-/ 

Kedi walked Calion to the foyer of the Palace’s front entrance. As suspected, many members of both House Cato and House Whisk had been idling in the lobby, waiting for the prince to grace them with his royal presence. Servants were hard at work taking jackets and scarves from the lords and ladies and quickly standing off to the side with deep bows.

Of course, Calion was the last to arrive. His parents were already there, as proactive as always, conversing with the other families with lovely smiles and hugs. Nikos was also there, along with many guards, as they kept watch over the proceedings. 

Calion never liked cordial greetings. It wasn’t because he didn’t like seeing his family; he was always excited to see his aunts and uncles and cousins all under one roof. He didn’t like these formal greetings because they were a reminder of his position as the prince. It was always the same. Calion would have to stand before a lord or lady and offer his hand. They would take his hand in one of theirs, gently rub a thumb over the top, and bow to him.

It was simple enough. He didn’t even really have to do anything besides stand there and look nice for his family. He didn’t like how it made him feel; a sense of guilt burned around his heart anytime his hand was taken and a bow given. They made it seem like he was important, but he never felt more important than any of them. There were plenty of people in that room that derived to be treated far better than him in his opinion.

King Lionidas, Queen Callisto, Lord Whisklen, Lady Mewmew, or Captain Catomar. Even Nikos deserved more respect than Calion felt he got. Yet here he was, prince of his people and heir to a throne he was a little too afraid to take. Breathing deeply and sucking up that nervous feeling in his throat, Calion approached the families conversing with one another. 

“Ah, there is my son.” His father, turning just in time to see the boy awkwardly shuffle toward him, said with a radiant smile. He stepped away from one of the lords and over to Calion, planting a hand over his shoulder and ushering him along. “Come greet your family.” Without waiting for his response, Lionidas pushed Calion along before his extended family. They all began to line up in one long row just for him. 

His father walked with him to the first lord.

“My prince.” He said, taking Calion's hand, smoothing his thumb over the top, and bowing gently toward him. He moved on to another, a lady of House Whisk.

“My lord.” She said, repeating the actions of the lord before her. For a while, it went on like that for as long as there were delegates to be greeted. Calion’s mind began to drift by the fifth lord. He would rather be doing anything else by this point. Royal greetings were so boring, but it was tradition to do so. He understood the importance of tradition; his tutors had drilled that understanding into him vigorously. Still, he wouldn’t mind dropping this particular one. Cookie would always say tradition was just a trap. A way to keep people in their places. Cookie told him a lot of things during their sessions together, mostly centering around the kingdom and how the monarchy was in desperate need of improvement. 

He was outspoken, but Calion didn’t think Cookie hated the kingdom. He just felt they needed a change for a better way of living. Calion felt the artists made a lot of good points about the kingdom though sometimes Cookie would go on tangents the prince didn’t necessarily understand like putting less emphasis on religion, the need for Ventrexia to pull in money from foreign sources and allow the export from more lucrative contraband or allowing corporations to set up a foothold on the planet. Calion didn’t see the need for that kind of stuff. The nation was already rich enough. At least he thought they were.

“Calion.” The prince was pulled from his train of thought by a demanding tone. “Don’t stray. It’s rude to ignore guests.” The lady said, taking his hand and bowing to him. 

“Y-yes.” Calion stuttered a bit. “Apologies, Lady Mewmew.” She was one of the more beautiful women in the kingdom, one step above the queen in that regard, and that was saying a lot. Calion’s mother was already one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen.

“Good.” She said, holding his cheek in her palm and softly smiling down at him. She was a strong woman to be sure, devoted in her duty as a woman of power and unbreakable in her resolve. There wasn’t a thing she wouldn’t do for her family and the people she loved. Calion loved her. He loved all his family, most of his family anyway, but Mewmew was among his pool of favorites, loving, gentle, and stronger than most. “Go along now.” She sent him along.

He stumbled over to the next lord, his mind still in a bit of a swirl. Mewmew was right. He didn’t want to seem rude in front of his family. They were there for him after all. Calion offered his hand before even gazing upon the lord he was offering it to, then he looked up. Once his eyes met the young lord, his heart skipped a beat. Whether out of nervousness or excitement, he wasn’t sure.

Golden eyes reached into his soul, and a soft, wooing smile touched his heart in many different places. The lord was tall, with sturdy and reliable shoulders, and his gaze was piercing. What really caught the prince’s attention, however, was the tone of the lord's fur. It was dark greenish, a shade of teal that was bordering on blue. He knew what the lord was, a blue imperial if he was correct. He’d read up on Ventrexians like him and the ancient bloodlines he descended from. His face was kind, but Calion could not help but find his form imposing nonetheless. He was the exact symbol of pure royalty from his heirloom fur to his posture.

The lord reached out for his hand, but suddenly, and almost automatically, Calion pulled back with a start and startled the lord in the process. His face had gone from warm and shifting to fearfully confused. 

“Calion,” Nikos whispered scoldingly. The prince looked back at his cousin, afraid and not knowing why.

“Calion.” His mother came up to him, her tone flat and seeming not too pleased with his reaction. “Is something the matter? Don’t you remember your cousin Avocato?” Calion turned back to the lord. His cousin Avocato?

“Oh.” He squeaked in his shyness. “It’s been a while… I think.” He half lied. It had truly been some time since he had seen his cousin, though it was usually from a distance. This was the first time he’d seen the lord up close. 

“My prince, if I have caused any offense, I did not mean-”

“No… no-no. No offense was taken.” Calion threw up his hands, apologizing to Avocato for his misunderstood reaction. “I was just not expecting to see you, is all…” He went awkwardly silent, shifting his gaze from the man’s kind face and down to his boots. They were pristine, reflected like mirrors, and reached up to his knees. Those were some of the finest boots Calion had ever seen on someone, excluding Nikos, of course, who always took care to keep his uniform in tip-top shape.

“Please excuse him, brother.” Nikos rushed up and pulled Calion away from Avocato. “He has been a tad shy as of late,” Nikos said, stepping aside with the prince. He gave Calion a look that asked him, ‘what was that?’ a question Calion couldn’t completely answer himself.

“Well. If the excitement is over, maybe we can get this luncheon underway? I am particularly famished.” A lord stepped forward, arms folded behind his back and nose upturned to the air.

“Of course, Lord Whisklen,” Lionidas said. “We wouldn’t want to squander your time. We all know how valuable you find it.” He jested with the lord, though Whisklen didn’t seem to find the king's remarks all that humorous. All the lords and ladies began to follow the king and queen as they marched deeper into the palace.

“A luncheon.” Calion’s face lit up. “Can I-”

“Cousin no.” Before he could even move, Nikos put a stop to his pursuit with a firm grip on his shoulder.

“Wha- why not?”

“This is a very important meeting for your mother and father. It is no place for the ears of a child.”

“But.” Nikos held up a finger, a sign that Calion should lower his voice.

“No buts.” He crouched down and rubbed at the boy's cheeks. “You have a brand new toy. Wouldn’t you rather be playing with that instead of attending a boring meeting?"

“I…” He went quiet, unable to really argue. “I guess.” He said, shoulders slumping and ears flattening despondently against his head.

“Good.” Nikos flashed a subtle enough smile. “Now run along.” He stood up, making his way in the direction of the royals with the rest of the guard in tow. 

“Don't fret, Calion. Luncheons can be the most boring things.” Kedi said, shoving a playful elbow into the boy. “I would much rather be playing with a Helix than sitting around and talking politics. Boring stuff, that.” Kedi snickered and walked off in the same direction as Nikos, his large footfalls sending ripples along the acoustic of the Palace foyer as he went.

Calion couldn’t believe it. He spent all that time greeting the lords and ladies, and they couldn’t allow him the decency to attend their meeting. Sure, he was just a kid, but he was the prince. He had to do meetings like that someday; might as well get some practice in while he could. 

“Hi Calion.” A shimmery voice reached his ears. He turned to look at the source. A boy stood, slightly shaking. His eyes were pale pools, his fur was glistening black with a large white patch around his neck, and his ears were short but sharp. Beside him was a girl of the same look, less shaky than he was, and her figure brimming with confidence. 

“Dear cousin, how are you?” The girl spoke with a regal smile over his small lips.

“Hey Whiskleena, hey Whiskken.” He greeted his cousins as they returned two in sync bows. Whiskken and Whiskleena were twins, nearly inseparable but far too different in personality to confuse the two. Whiskken was a shy boy. He spoke with a constant shudder in his voice and was always jittering, ever so slightly. He was a severely unconfident boy, and Calion might attribute his state of speaking to his shyness. His state of being was a completely separate matter. Some sort of condition that caused his body to shake uncontrollably. His sister, on the other hand, was the opposite of him. She was never caught standing in any other way but perfectly; she always spoke with a refined tone of voice that was smooth as honey, and she was always in the latest fashion and jewelry. She was a bit vain, but she always stood up for her brother and was always willing to cause trouble for Calion’s sake.

“It’s been some time, cousin,” Whiskken spoke through his shuddery tone.

“It’s only been a few months.”

“Yes, Calion, but a few months seems almost a lifetime in certain aspects. Wouldn’t you agree?” Whiskleena said, her regal smirk dilating as Calion went to give them both hugs. 

“Yeah, I know what you mean, Leena,” Calion said, separating from the twins. He appreciated seeing his cousins, even if they tended to lean on the posher side of life. That was especially true with Whiskleena. “So… Does anyone know what this meeting is all about?” He gave a sheepish bob of his head, testing the extent of their knowledge with the question.

“Oh, you know how it is, dear cousin.” Whiskleena started. “Not a clue what it could be about. Father was so hush-hush about it, but I do know that word of the luncheon had been sent out a day prior. Naturally, father was a mess of worry.”

“A day.” Calion’s brow rose suspiciously. Normally, a luncheon was planned weeks in advance. It gave recipients time to prepare for whatever was to be discussed, but for a meeting to be called just one day in advance was strange. Probably not out of the ordinary, but for the king to call upon one without proper preparation was odd. “And you’re sure you don’t know why?” They shrugged simultaneously.

“All we were asked was to keep you company," Whiskken said. “What shall we do first, cousin? We could walk the gardens, maybe visit the menagerie? I heard you had a new influx of animals, or we can watch you compose a new song in your quarters.”

“Eh.” Calion shrugged at the suggestion. He didn’t feel like walking the forest-like gardens, he didn’t feel like watching caged animals do, not much of anything, and music was far from his mind at the moment. He was too enthralled with the thought of his parents meeting to focus on anything else. What was so important that he needed to be left out of the loop? What was not meant for the ‘ears of a child’, as Nikos would put it. He wanted to know. He needed to know. He looked at his cousins, a devious smile forming. “I have a better idea.”

-/-/-/-/

“I-I don’t know if this is a good idea, cousin.” Whiskken shuddered as a gust of wind rippled through his glossy black fur. “You could get hurt.”

“Nonsense, dear brother. The prince shall do as he pleases.” Whiskleena interjected with a glint of excitement in her eyes. “Besides, harm will not befall him so long as we don’t drop him.”

“Don’t worry, Whiskken. This is going to work out.” Calion reassured his cousin before looking over the edge of the rooftop they were on and gazing down at the courtyard below. “I hope so.” He muttered away from the pair. Calion’s curiosity about the luncheon had led him and his cousins to the rooftops of the palace. Despite what Nikos had told him, the prince was determined to be a part of the meeting in some way, even if he had to dangle from the roof to do so. Funnily enough, that was the plan he’d end up contriving after liberating some rope from one of the palace's many store rooms. He knew he couldn’t just walk through the doors. There would no doubt be guards posted outside the doors to the meeting hall with orders to turn him away. So his next best option was to get his cousins to lower him down to one of the room's windows. At first, it was a sound plan, but now that he was there, he could see that it was a long way down to the courtyard. “Okay, guys.” Turning to his cousins, the prince grinned, still determined to carry out his plan nevertheless. “Please don’t drop me, okay?” He said half jokingly. It got a delightful chuckle from Whiskleena, though Whiskken did not seem to find his morbid jest as entertaining.

Without dallying on the thought, Calion went over the edge, holding tightly to the rope as he descended the palace walls. To his relief, his cousins held firmly to the rope, not immediately sending him careening to the stone paths below. Calion knew his home was big, but he never failed to forget until he was on the roofs or at the peak of the palace tower, where his father's throne room was settled. From those vantage points, he could see it all. The gardens, the courtyards, the many small estates where the servants would retire, and the menagerie. It almost seemed like a small town rather than a home.

Descending the rope, Calion finally came to a stop at a large window. He peeked into the hall where the luncheon was being hosted, getting a good look at the large dining table that nearly stretched from one end of the hall to the other. He was familiar with the space and had passed through it many times. It was large, paintings of past kings and queens lined the walls, and statues of old heroes in various states of nudity were positioned at every corner. Food was laid out on the table, mostly fruits and salads. Calion couldn’t see his parents, but he did see a few lords and ladies sitting at the table. Kedi and Nikos were also most likely in the room, standing guard at either entryway. No one seemed to notice the boy prince dangling in the window a few hundred feet from the ground, to Calion's relief.

This wasn’t Calion’s first soiree into spying on others. He had done plenty of sneaking around the palace beforehand, listening in on conversations he was not meant to be privy to. Sure, he had gotten into trouble for a few of those attempts, but in others, he was never caught at all. Still, he knew he could be caught easily. He was far too exposed with no place to hide, but as long as he was fast enough, he could twist his dangerous stunt into some excuses without receiving too harsh a punishment.

Calion couldn’t really hear much from where he was suspended. The window had been closed, and everyone present had been speaking far too softly, though if he focused hard enough, he could pick up on the occasional sentence or two. At first, the meeting wasn’t so interesting, mostly made up of uncles and aunts catching up with one another about life and the such. Calion had begun to regret risking his life for such mundane conversation, that was, until the matter at hand arrived.

He couldn’t hear much, but he could make out bits and pieces. Worries arose all around the room. Talk of the lord commander and the Tera Con empire. The recent ceasefire and what it could mean for Ventrexia, their recently fragile relationship with Earth, and the shadow claw’s threats.

“Threats?” Calion whispered. Had he heard that right? He continued to listen.

“I say we should take his offer and put an end to this petty war! With more pressing matters to attend to, we can not afford the fighting!” At one point, lord Whisklen stood, declaring loudly, nose perpetually turned to the ceiling.

“Sir Whisklen!” Lady Mewmew, seemingly far from happy with his words, stood next. “Out of respect for your name, I will hold my tongue. But if you ever propose a suggestion like that again, you’ll find me less accommodating." She growled, running her claws over the wooden table. The lord sat down quickly after that. 

Calion smiled. Things were starting to heat up.

“Mother, please, compose yourself.” Another voice came, restoring some dignity to the woman. Calion could recognize the deep, palliative drawl of Avocato easily. “I agree that this ceasefire had come at a far too convenient time. There is something suspicious about it. So I suggest that we turn to the infinity guard for assistance.”

“The infinity guard, bah.” One lord spat. “They will refuse. They have no real quarrel with the empire, and they have their own worlds to maintain.”

“They will help if I am allowed to act as a liaison for Ventrexia. I’m sure I can convince them one way or another that helping us in the fight against Tera Con can only be a positive for both our nations.” The room fell upon a heavy silence, all heads turned in one direction.

“You are certain of this?” The voice of Catomar came softly and nearly inaudible.

“Yes, father. I am.” Another brief silence came and went.

“Then I advocate for it. What's say the rest of you?” Hands rose in the air one by one, even Whisklen, as reluctantly as he did, also agreed.

“So be it.” The voice of the king boomed through the hall. “We shall send Avocato as a liaison to advocate for the assistance of the Infinity Guard. We will also have General Cataloupe transferred from the front to help assist in the matter.”

“Calion!” Whiskken’s worried voice came suddenly from the rooftops. So enchanted with the outcome of the luncheon, Calion had not expected the start his jittering cousin would give him. He jolted, nearly losing his grip on the rope. He caught his grip quickly, his sudden movement causing him to dangle backward before he hit the window with a slight thud. It was enough for the room to go quiet again, heads turning in all directions amid the confusion. 

“What was that?” Calion panicked, though, thinking on his feet, he began to quickly ascend the rope, pulling up the loose ends as he did. The prince had gotten just above the large window before it was pushed open. Nikos peered out, eyes squinted, his head slowly moving like a sentinel as he observed the courtyard below. Calion didn’t dare to move; he didn’t dare to breathe, fearing that Nikos would hear his very heartbeat. He was so close, just inches above the man's head. One false move and the prince would receive more than a mere verbal lashing.

“Hmmm… must have been a bird or some such.” He reasoned, closing the window behind him and the curtains along with it.

Calion quickly scaled back up the rope, meeting his cousins on the rooftops once again. 

“Oh dear cousin, I do say that was fun.” Whiksleena beamed, pulling the rest of the rope onto the roof for Calion.

“It was dangerous.” Her brother replied more anxiously.

“Nonsense, dear brother. He was safe in our capable hands.” She waved off his concern with a flick of her wrist. “So, what have you learned, Calion?”

“Not much, though they did say they were sending Avocato to Earth to convince the Infinity Guard for something.” Calion took a moment to breathe, his heart still racing in his chest. “They also mentioned the shadow claw.” The siblings' faces turned deathly pale at the mention of the name. This worried Calion. “Are they really as bad as they say?”

“Worse,” Whiskken whispered in his shaky tone, only made worse now.

“I do say, they are pure evil, dear cousin.” Whiskleena stopped briefly, bringing her voice down to a whisper. “I heard a rumor that they were even targeting your father specifically.”

Calion’s eyes widened, and his brows raised in shock. “Re- ridiculous.” Calion stammered. “They wouldn’t be able to get close enough. It would be a death wish on their part.”

“Still, you never know,” Whiskken said. “I’ve heard once they set their sights on an individual, they take any means to get to them, suffer any pain, whether it would take them days… or years. It’s scary to think about.”

“Oh, I can’t even imagine what you must be going through, dear cousin.” They each offered sympathetic looks for him and his family.  

Silence followed in his shock. “Still…” He said. “Even if that was true, they wouldn’t be able to get to him. He’s surrounded by some of Ventrexia’s best soldiers. Even a person like the shadow claw has to realize that it would be a lost cause." They nodded at him, inspired by Calion’s reassurance, even if he was doubting it himself. If the rumor was to be believed, then the extra security made sense now. Calion didn’t like the thought of a target being painted on his father’s head. Doubtful thoughts began to swarm his mind then. What would happen if he were to lose him? What if the guard weren't enough to stop Shadow Claw? 

Calion shook the bad thoughts away. They were surrounded by the best. If the best couldn’t stop them, then Kedi would. If Kedi couldn’t stop them, then Nikos would, but Calion is confident that they would be stopped.            

Chapter Text

Calion descended the spiraling staircase with a bounce in each step. He jumped from the last pair of steps, hitting the ground with a heavy, echoing thud. There was a certain excitement rustling beneath his fur that he could not necessarily explain. His mind was a swarm with things that should have been worrying: a potential surrender to the Tera Con empire, his family bickering with one another, and a rumor of his father coming under threat of a notorious terrorist assassin. All of these things should have been cause for concern for the young prince. He should have been curled up next to his mother and father with his tail in his hands, but instead, he had been smiling. Slightly but surely.

He thought it had to do with the stray thoughts of pricing, golden eyes that racked his mind. His cousin, Avocato, was persistent. Since the other day, Calion had struggled to rid his mind of all thoughts of the strapping man. His dark fur, his refined posture, his tidy and elegantly conditioned uniform, and the shin of his boots. He was so dashing, and Calion would dare to even say knee quaveringly handsome. He wondered what Avocato was like. The prince hardly knew a thing about his cousin aside from what he saw. He wondered if the man was a powerful warrior. With a figure so strong and brooding, he had to be. Was he as ruthless as his mother and calculating as his father? Was he heroically stoic or maternally caring, cold or warm? Would he do anything for Calion if the prince asked him to? Would he deliver the severed head of the Shadow Claw to him personally? Calion smiled wider as he marched along the dimly lit hall leading to the kitchens.

He reached for the door, pausing just before laying a finger on the old wood. A brow rose curiously on his head, and he stepped closer to the door, pressing an ear against it. He could hear something, a voice, multiple voices all in an uproar. Hoots and hollers raged like wild dogs in the night, sometimes out of joy and sometimes out of pure rage. Calion took a step back, a smile still burning on his face. It sounded like someone was having fun. 

The prince reached for the doors and carefully pushed them open. As he ambled into the kitchen, he quickly spotted the source of the ruckus at play. A few guards had all been gathered in the mostly empty kitchens, Purrice being the only employee still there. Their attention had been grasped by the holo projection along the back wall.

“Come on!” One shouted, shooting up out of his seat with a sharp jolt. His fur was gray with black strips lining his face, and his ears were short. He was a slim man, not really tall, but he stood with his back straightened out. “Whaddya doin'!” He yelled at the projection with as much force as he could muster from his diaphragm.

“Playing like children by the looks of it?” Another, a woman with almond-shaded fur, chuckled as she elbowed the first in his side.

“Guys, relax, it’s only the first half. Vantrexia has plenty of time to pick it back up.” The third, holding a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other, reassured the other two guards. His fur was a patchy white and blond. His ears were folded back on his head in a relaxed manner, and his eyes seemed just as lazy, bordering on open and closed.

“Not if they’re playing like this, they aren't." Purrice chuckled, stoking the flames like the menace he could be. He wasn’t really watching the game, but he was listening closely. He was too busy cleaning all the dishes that had been discarded from that night's dinner. Of course, the head chef would leave all that work to him after all the other cooks had retired for the evening. He boiled Calion’s blood to see. “Look at this, what's he doing now?’ Purrice pointed at the screen to the Ventrexian in a skintight battle suit.

“He needs to start paying attention.” The first guard said, throwing his head back in annoyance.

Calion then looked at the screen. They had been watching a game of Thimbles. Calion’s ears pricked up in excitement. Thimbles was often touted as a sport of kings and fought with passion, blood, sweat, tears, and many lost limbs. Thimbles was a violent game that valued strength and skill above all else. Needless to say, it was a favorite among Ventrexians. The game's rules were simple enough to follow. Thimbles was played by two teams of two to four players. The players were required to wear targeting visors over one eye, skin-tight battle suits, and were armed with small bats called smashers, which were used to knock a projectile called a thimble across the playing field. The use of weapons was allowed, usually to gain the upper hand when presented. Points, which were also called thimbles, were scored in two ways. By hitting thimbles through players, smashing windows, or severing limbs. Limbs were worth the most points, each giving and taking, four points each if the limb wasn’t cleared off the field by the person who’d lost it fast enough. He always wanted to play, but that would require him to leave the palace when he needed to, and Ventrexia knew his parents wouldn’t allow that. 

Calion stepped further into the kitchen, maneuvering behind the lounging guards for a better view of the projection. It wasn’t often he got to watch a match of Thimbles; his parents, though being fans of the sport, hardly allowed his eyes to befall the violence that unfolded in a typical match.

“Come on!” The first guard shouted, springing again from his seat. Ventrexia had been playing against Geltia that night. The game had just begun, but the Ventrexian team had fallen a bit behind the six-eyed Geltians. "You're kidding!” One of the Ventrexians had taken a shot to the arm that had dismembered it, sending it to the neon-soaked arena ground below. Calion giggled beneath his breath at the sight of the arm reforming on the Ventrexian combatant. The sight and sound of the arm reconstructing caused him to cringe joyfully. It was a gross display that looked as painful as it was satisfying. “You moron! Get that arm off the field!" The first guard persisted in his belligerence. Calion could tell he was passionate about the sport, more than anyone he’s ever seen before.

“Would you calm down, Smoll? It’s only the first quarter. We’ll come back.” The guard with the drink attempted to temper his buddies' passionate anger, but despite his valiant effort, it didn't do much to settle the Gray Ventrexian’s mood.

“It doesn’t take much for the game to go paws up, Catstile. If we don’t start playing smart, we might as well surrender."

“And Ventrexians don’t surrender.” The female guard laughed.

“Exactly, Kadea. Come on, Ventrexia!” The first guard cried, clapping as both teams reset their positions on the field.

No one seemed to know Calion was there. They were all too focused on the game to realize. Acting in an unbecoming manner before a royal was a great offense, let alone acting that way before the prince. Had a superior been present, the three guards would have been reprimanded severely and put on toilet or crept duty for the better part of a few months, then sent to some hellhole battlefield. Still, Calion didn’t mind their behavior. He didn’t want them to know he was there because he didn’t want to spoil their fun. He wished more people could be themselves around him, but he understood the need for grace and civility around the future king. Even so, Calion liked to see the real side of people, not the ones who saw the prince and acted accordingly. He did his best to encourage a more casual environment for the guards and servants, but his attempts never really stuck. They were all too afraid or obedient to the king, queen, and captain of the guard to let themselves be seen as uncivil within the palace grounds.

“Yes!” The guards cried vigorously in unison at the projection of the match. Ventrexia had just scored an astounding score. One of the players had cast a thimble and pulled out a firearm, shooting at the projectile to enhance its speed. It went flying quickly and dangerously, causing multiple Geltian lambs to go flying about the arena and blood to splatter all over the floor. The kitchen was a mess of hollers and cheers of victory. Purrice was the only one present to keep some sense of civility during the small celebration. Calion could understand why. He was not a soldier and typically didn’t act out in a fashion befitting a Ventrexian soldier. He had his fun in his way, usually expressing celebration through small bursts of laughter and shakes of his head.

“See that. Ventrexia’s the strongest.” The patchy-furred guard with the drink beamed as he stuck the cigarette between his lips and took a long drag.

“Just in time to end the first quarter as well.” The woman clapped her hands together before elbowing the first guard in the side. “See, you worry about nothing."

“I had good cause. Last cycle was a disaster for our team. Five straight losses in a row, especially to Hooblots of all people. Embarrassing the whole nation, live across the galaxy. We couldn’t live it down.”

“I will admit, the Hooblot defeat stung the worst.” The woman said. “Last cycle was a mess, but we were having an off year. The war was reaching a fevered pitch. Can’t blame the team for being too worried for the nation to play correctly, can you?”

“I suppose not.”

“Well, see it this way.” Purrice joined the conversation. “You can’t say we didn’t put up a hell of a fight across those five losses.” He purred cheerfully, continuing to scrub at the dishes in the sink.

“Still, five losses.” The first guard grumbled resentfully.

“Hopefully, this year will be better.” Calion spoke, forgetting that he wasn’t there to cause a scene. He had no idea what compelled him then; maybe it was the casualness of their conversation or him wanting to be a part of the merriment. Either way, eyes had spun around to find him immediately upon hearing his voice.

“My prince.” The first guard said, shock racing across his face like a flash of lightning. He got up and knelt quickly before the prince. Soon, the woman guard and the one with the drink, setting his drink down and dropping the cigarette in the liquid, would follow. “F-forgive our crudeness, we had no idea you were here.”

“Yeah. No idea.” The third guard echoed the first.

“Guys, please relax. There's nothing to apologize for.” Calion said, feeling a little awkward by the way the guards groveled at his feet. They made it seem like he would punish them at any moment. "Uhh, what's your names, guards? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.” After a monument, each guard stood, squaring the hem of their uniforms and smoothing their purple sashes. 

“We’re fairly recent transfers, my lord. Ever since the war reached a cool-down, a lot of the legions have been getting moved around.” He saluted the prince casually. “I'm Sgt. Smoll, the other two are Kadea and Catstile.” The other two saluted much more stiffly than Smoll. “Apologies for our rudeness, we weren't expecting any royals to be down here at this time.” He chuckled awkwardly, his lips shifting from an odd smile to a scared frown repeatedly.

“Again, no need for apologies. I just came to see Purrice.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, Cal…” Purrice rubbed his neck as he shuffled up to the group. “If I knew you were coming, I would have kicked them out sooner. Could you… Maybe not mention this to the captain by any chance. I wouldn’t want anyone to get in trouble.”

Calion smiled at the man. “Trust me, the last thing I was going to do was rat anyone out.” All three guards breathe a sigh of relief as they unwind into more relaxed and slouched postures. “So… what were you guys up to anyway? Anything fun?” Calion asked with some flash ignorance in his tone.

“We were just catching the latest Thimbles game, my lord,” Smoll answered quickly. Though he was more relaxed, Calion could tell he wasn’t ready to drop his guard completely.

“Yes. Ventrexia has been on a killing streak as of late, and we wanted to catch a game live. We’ve been so busy moving around as of late that we weren't able to until now.” The woman guard, Kadea, spoke next. “We thought the presence of a few guards would go unnoticed, so my colleagues and I felt it harmless to sneak away for a bit.”

“Yeah, harmless, but for the record, it was their idea, not mine.” The third guard, Catstile, attempted to shift the blame, earning him a quick punch from Kadea.

Calion stifled a laugh, happy to see the guards return to low alert. “Thimbles, you say.” Calion cooed, rubbing a hand along his chin. “I didn’t realize we were doing so well this year.”

“And thank Ventrexia we are,” Carstil said, clasping his hands together in a prayer-like manner and raising them to the air. “I had a lot of Trexims riding on this.”

“Calm down. No one needs to know about your gambling habits.” Smoll scoffed, shaking his head at his fellow guard.

“Did you want to join us, Cal? I could certainly use the company that isn’t these rowdy three.” Purrice asked, holding his hands to his hips. A warm smile sat on his face as usual, and as usual, Calion found it hard to resist.

“Sure.” He agreed without hesitation, always willing to hang out with his favorite cook when he found the chance. “I don’t get to watch much, so it should be fun.”

“Ugh. That's a shame.” Kadea said, a little shocked. “How is that possible? Thimbles is practically our national pastime.”

Chuckling nervously, Calion takes his tail in his hands. It was an automatic response, something that happened anytime he was feeling anxious. “My parents tend to keep me away from the holovision.”

“What!” The guards looked at him strangely as if he’d just grown three separate tails. “Have- have they at least taken you to see a live match?” Smoll asked in disbelief. Calion slowly shook his head as he rubbed his tail.

“About the only time I get to watch is with them, and that's not all of the time.” He breathed gently, his eyes falling from the guards to the floor. It was a travesty, to be sure. No one had to tell him; the guards didn’t have to say it, but he knew. “What's it like… seeing a game in person?”

“Oh, Cal. It’s the best.” Purrice answered before anyone else. “The lights, the roaring of the crowds, the subpar snacks, and having the chance to take an arm or a leg home with you. It’s… an experience. One you would have to witness yourself to truly understand.”

“Oh yeah.” Catstile agreed. “Even in the nosebleeds, it’s a worthwhile experience.”

Calion gazed back up to the group, his eyes filled with wonder. “It sounds amazing. Is the outside usually like that?”

The guards look to one another with more strange or blank looks before turning back to the prince. “You don’t get out much, do you, Calion?” Smoll said, and Calion shook his head in silence, a sense of shame rising in his throat as he did. Smoll hummed before walking toward the prince. He crouched, meeting the boy at his level. “The outside.” He whispered to himself, eyes wandering for a bit as they came to find the prince again. “The outside is a big place. Lots of people from all walks of life. There's a lot to see and do and eat and smell and love about it that I can’t quite explain at the moment. But there's also a lot to not like as well. The world can be an unkind place for some. Still, I think you would love it. I can’t imagine it’s easy being copped up in the fancy palace day in, day out.”

Calion scoffed out a laughter that sounded more like a whimper. “Like you wouldn’t believe.” He muttered. That amount of understanding from a guard he hardly knew drove his heart into a frenzy.

“Come on,” Smoll said. “Let's watch the rest of this game.”

-/-/-/-/-/

Calion didn’t stay to watch the whole game that night. It was getting late, and he knew Nikos would be on the hunt for him if he wasn’t in his room by a certain time. Calion didn’t want to put anyone in hot water with his cousin, so he opted to leave despite protest from the guards, though Purrice understood why he needed to flee when he did.

Before he would make his way to his quarters, however, the prince wanted to make one quick stop along the way. The palace tower was a tall structure that sat fixed to the rear of the palace. A large golden spire that reached up into the sky like a spear, endeavoring to touch the stars. It was where his father's throne sat and where many important events took place. Paramount, nation-defining summits, life-altering decisions, royal lesions, and orders for political executions were some of the most common. 

Calion wasn’t allowed in the tower after certain hours if unattended. Extra guards roamed the tower floors, and Calion assumed it was to guard the throne room. Even with the additional security, Calion was more than capable of getting past them unseen. He had come into the tower plenty of times, and not once had he been caught. If anything, the guards there were lackluster compared to the rest of the palace. Maybe they saw tower duty as cozy, not worth the effort to put in during the night. Calion was grateful for it. Their negligence made it easier for him to ascend the floors with ease.

He stepped into the throne room. Long red banners swayed in an unseen, unfelt wind that hollowed through the empty hall. Large metallic pillars stood on either side of the room, bracing the floors and ceilings together. At the end of the hall sat his father's throne, empty and plush with golden pointed edges. That was a seat he was meant to take one day, a seat he never liked looking at for longer than he had to.

He pushed past the throne, toward the back of the room, and made his way to the tower balcony. Stepping out into the cool wind, Calion took a moment to settle within his nerves. He had climbed to the top of the palace many times before but tonight seemed especially taxing for him. Despite how easy he found it to sneak past the many lazing guards; it didn’t change the fact that he had to go to those lengths in the first place. He would think being the prince of his people allowed more leniency in his own home, but he’d be wrong. He was under lock and key more often than not, and it drove him crazy.

Breathing out a gentle sigh, Calion peered over the palace balcony. The goal was always to get a glimpse of the city. Of course, he could have done that during the day when he was allowed to roam the tower, but the city was always more visible at night and so much more beautiful as well. It was strange. Ventrex city seemed so close, yet when he reached out into the night, when he went to hold it in his palm, it might as well have been a lifetime separated. So close yet so far. So beautiful yet unattainable.

Calion breathed and retracted his hand. It was breathtaking, but that was all it would ever be to him. Just a nice piece of scenery and nothing more. He sniffed, feeling the telltale sign of tears steaming at his eyes. He brought up his Helix and snapped a picture of the view. A nice little keepsake he could revisit anytime he wanted, though he knew nothing could replace the actual thing.

“Maybe someday.”

“Calion.” The prince stiffened at the sound of a familiar voice. “Calion.” He called again, this time with more sternness. Calion walked back into the throne room and peeked sheepishly out past the large golden throne. Nikos was standing at the foot of the red carpet that ran from the throne to the hall door. His blue eyes pierced the dark, quickly spotting Calion. He was not happy. Even in the dark, Calion could see the disappointment on his face. “Come here.” He said, gesturing for the boy to approve him with a finger.

“How’d you even know I was here?” Calion sighed, stepping out from behind the throne and walking over to his cousin. He had never been caught in the tower after hours before, yet here his cousin was searing him down with sharp blue daggers.

“I…” Nikos paused, his disappointment fading into uncertainty. “I spotted you on your way in. If you are going to be sneaky-sneaky, you should really pay more attention to your surroundings.” He cracked a small smile.

Calion looked away, embarrassed that he could let his guard down so much. “Please don’t tell father.” Calion clasped his hands together, begging his cousin not to sell him down the river. The man just continued to smile.

“I will not…” He paused again. “Only if you do not mention to the king and queen that I let you dangle from the rooftops like an old doll.” 

“Wait, what-” Calion stammered, nearly staggering in his disbelief. “Wait- how did you-”

"I notice everything." He sounded a humored hum. “Also, you give off a peculiar scent when you are nervous, cousin.” Calion breathed heavily. He slapped a hand to his head, even more embarrassed now. How could he forget how powerful a Ventrexian’s sense of smell was, especially Nikos’? His cousin could smell just about anything from the meal you had eaten last week to the scent of a discharged gun. “Come now. It is time for bed.” He turned on his heels and ushered Calion along with a nod. The boy didn’t argue, following his cousin with a slight slouch in his step. Calion was so sure of himself, but he forgot Nikos was one of the best guards in the palace.    

Chapter Text

The room was quiet and empty. Perfect for his needs at that very moment. The simulation hall was normally abuzz with soldiers running the latest combat sims to keep their defensive skills as sharp as swords. It was state-of-the-art technology. There was no better way to experience the raw grit of a battlefield without actually having to be on one personally. That being said, it was still a simulation, and you could tell. Calion never got to use the Sims much; there was no reason for him to do so quite yet. Skarlia handled all of his combat training, and it would be another couple of years before he would graduate to the sims, but of course, that never stopped the prince from sneaking into the hall and booting up a simulation from time to time.

During this time of the day, Calion knew the hall was vacant and would be for some time. Truthfully, it had been some time since he was down in the Sims last. His uptick in studies had left him with little time and wiggle room to work with, but wiggle he would. 

Calion stepped into the silent halls of the simulation room. It was a large space located below the palace, not too far from the holding cell block and the wine cellars that shared the same space. It was simple, sleek, and flanked by sterile white walls, floors, and ceilings. Toward the back of the hall, an observation tower for the captains to observe their men's combat prowess on the field stood tall over the large, bland field. On the surface, the Sims was nothing special, but it was far more interesting when it was up and running.

Calion closed his eyes, taking a moment to breathe in the silence of the large empty room. He thought back to the other day, to the kitchens and the words of Smoll. There was a lot to love. Calion played that specific portion in his head over and over again. There was a lot to love about the outside, and yet he was not allowed off the palace grounds to experience any of it. There was a lot to love, and he would love it, but how could he when he couldn't leave?

Calion drew in a deep, relaxed breath. He held it for a monument, keeping the words swirling around his mind like a flock of silverwings. He thought about the city, the buildings, the holographic ads, the storefronts. He thought about the roads, the cars, the chips in the concrete, the stray animals. He thought about the people, what they were doing, their daily routines, their smiles, their frowns, the ups and downs of mundane life. He opened his eyes, his sight adjusting to his surroundings as they did. A soft smile pulled its way over his lips.

“Computer!” Calion bellowed as the room lit up with a low hum, a sign that it was listening to him. “Boot up program 5555, please!” He said, his voice soft and kind and shy but determined. For a monument, silence followed Calion’s request. The low humming that had surrounded the room became louder and louder, and then a flash of light, followed by an array of lasers, began to construct new surroundings over the old, bland white halls. Lasers turned into outlines of buildings and objects, turned into realized streets and alleys of Ventrex city. Calion spun in place, the room still in the process of making his request a reality. Afterward came the cars, then the sky, and the birds along with it. Then came the citizens, on bikes, on foot, walking to some indeterminate location or shopping or eating or arguing or loving or performing some other such Ventrexian habit the best they could.

After that came the music. A beautiful piece composed by one of Calion’s favorite Ventrexian composers. It was often stated that this piece of music was something he’d heard in his dreams and did his best to recreate in the waking world, but no matter how hard he tried, it could never sound as beautiful. Calion could believe it. The prince had plenty of days when his mind would concoct a tone so beautifully impossible, and when he went to recreate it, the end result would often turn out as a disappointment. The song was meant to top off the sim, a sign that it was ready for him to explore to his leisure.

“Play.” He said, and suddenly,  the streets that were once frozen had buzzed to life. Cars drove through the streets, splashing through large puddles, setting off the horns in traffic, and speeding with abandon through the downtown area.

On the sidewalks, people went about their days, enduring through life, entering and exiting stores, talking with one another, arguing with one another, loving and hating, laughing and crying. Calion stepped onto one of the sidewalks nearby and up to a couple. They were close together, touching their foreheads to one another and whispering sweet platitudes. The woman was pregnant and beaming as the man smoothed a hand over her swollen stomach. It was a sweet sight, one Calion always liked to witness first in his voyeuristic proceedings. The next couple he spotted was in a heated disagreement. Voices were raised, arms flared wildly. Harsh truths were spoken, slaps to the face were cast, and a passionate kiss followed in the wake of the couple's anger. Cute, Calion thought. Would it end that way in real life? He wasn't so sure. The personalities of a lot of the civilians in this sim were based on the many people he was close to, most of them being the palace employees. A lot of the couples tended to act like his mother and father because that was the only example he had to draw from until recently. 

Calion had created the program 2 years or so ago when he had more free time and back before he had a Helix stripped to his wrist. The Sims weren't built for replicating civilian life; they were meant as a tool of war. A weapon meant to train soldiers in the art of combat and strategy. As a result, the program he wound up making was stitched together with a jury-rigged understanding of what civilian life was meant to be like. Calion was a smart kid; if he could say anything about himself, it would be that. He had to strip back a lot of the sim’s war-based programming to get his vision of Ventrex city to work the way he wanted it to. That meant tuning down a lot of things, starting with an invading force of Tryvuulians, Gelatins, Toruk, or one of the many other species that dotted the galaxy, that would storm the city in droves. He’d have to turn down the fear response in the civilians so they didn’t go running in every direction and install new personality programs just to give them some life. He didn’t have a lot to work with; most of the personalities uploaded were models of servants from around the palace. The most Ventrexian acting ones were modeled after Purrice, Cookie, or one of Calion's many tutors. Even Skarlia’s personality traits seemed fairly normal in the sim, oddly enough, given her tendency for fighting.

At the time of creating the program, Calion was happy with the results, but it had been a while since he set foot in the hall, and he could see just how bland it all truly was. Now, since receiving his comms device, Calion had access to the entire net of personalities. He could browse spaceface accounts, news feeds, and videos from seemingly average individuals. The prince had a better understanding of what a person was supposed to act like. Armed with that knowledge, Calion could give the program the upgrade it had been in desperate need of. It could feel real, like he was actually out there among his people.

Calion smiled softly and looked up toward the bright sunny sky. The clouds stood still, all carved out of the same lumpy shape that polka-dotted the baby blue backdrop. The birds flew in perfectly synchronized patterns, hardly separating from each other, never landing, never eating or taking bird baths in the many puddles that lined the streets. They simply flew in perfect patterns forevermore. Calion pressed a hand to his cheeks as he became more aware of his surroundings, his smile faded subtly at what he’d become witness to. At some point in his thought, the sim had shifted. It seemed quiet now, almost mute; not a sound could be heard past his deep observation of his clunky creation. The actions of the clivians repeated themselves quite a bit. The same cars with the same patterns drove through the street, taking the same paths and honking the same horns, splashing the same puddles, and getting stuck in the same traffic. Even the buildings that were meant to be the highlight of his experience were not perfect. They were nothing compared to what he’d seen from a distance.

Calion hummed, walking back to the pregnant couple from before. He stared at them, face and heart absent of all emotion, much like this program. He raised a hand and swatted at the couple. A wave of digital feedback flowed through his fingers like some vague notion of river water. He brought his hand up and stared at his palm.

The simulation could only do so much in his eyes. He could make it seem real, but he knew it would never be the real deal. Calion would never be able to replicate what made people real, what made the birds or clouds real. He couldn’t replicate love, hatred, anger, disgust, passion, fear; he couldn’t. He was only one boy with simple dreams that seemed bigger than they should have been.

Planting his face into his palm, Calion let out a shaky sigh, faced with the reality that this was all his life would be. “But did it have to be?” He whispered, looking through the seams of his digits. A deep wave of relaxation wafted along his expression as he thought of his life. “Did it have to be like this?” He muttered again. It didn’t have to be; he knew it didn’t have to. Not if he didn’t want it to be.

At that moment, Calion’s mind began to run wild with thoughts and plans. He could sneak out, just for one night, for a few hours, just to see the city up close. No one would have to know he was gone. He’d have to plan his route carefully, though, and take account of the guards on patrol. His two main issues would be the font gate and Nikos. He would need to be extra careful when avoiding his cousin. He needed a way to mask his scent if he were going to stand a chance against the man. A lot of the guards around the palace could smell fear, and Calion was a particularly nervous boy, but Nikos’ sense of smell was on a whole other level of competence. Then there was the issue with the palace gate. How would he get past it? There was always a litany of guards posted at the Golden Gate at any given time. How could he convince them to let him pass? They obviously wouldn’t, and he would likely end up being dragged back to his room. On another note, how would he have gotten to the city?

“Hmmm…” Calion hummed in apparent frustration. There was too much to keep track of, too many variables and obstacles to clear, with no clear answers on how to do so without much issue. He stood silently for a while, his brain storming like one of Cala and Lio’s arguments. Then it clicked for him.

“Computer, stop simulation,” Calion said, and in an instant, the false city had faded, and the room was back to its normal sleek self. “Call Whiskleena.” He raised his arm and spoke into the Helix. It rang for a moment before a projection of the girl appeared before him.

“Dear cousin, how are you?” She beamed her usual bright, cocky smile before looking off-screen. “Brother, come say hello to cousin.”

“Hi Calion.” Whiskken waddled his shaky self into view. He stood beside his sister, his smile a little more timid than hers.

“Hi, guys.” He greeted them with a nervous chuckle.

“Why might you be calling at this moment, dear cousin? Shouldn’t you be enthralled in your studies at this hour instead of mucking about, hmmm?” Whiskleena teased, and Calion responded with another shy chuckle.

“I had some time to kill…” He paused, hesitating and wondering if he could trust his cousin enough with the thought he had in mind. He decided to take the risk. “I need your help with something. It’s super important, and I need you to keep it between the three of us. Can I trust you to do that?”

“W-what is it?” Whiskken shuddered. 

“Please, guys. Can I trust you to hear me out?” They were given pause as they turned concerned looks to one another. 

“Of course, dear cousin. Our lips are sealed." Whiskleena ran her fingers over her lips as she answered for her and her brother. “What did you need from us?”

Calion's stomach untangled itself, relieved with the answer. “I’m gonna need some sort of transportation. Like a bike or something to that effect. Something fast enough to get me from the grand palace to the city.”

“T-the city.” Whiskken stuttered as his body shook worse than it had already. “You’re not thinking of leaving the palace, are you, cousin?” Calion nodded, his face cold and uncompromising. “I don’t know, cousin, you’re not allowed out of the palace under any circumstances. You could get in really big trouble if you were caught, or something bad could happen when you’re out there. You’d be all alone-”

“Whiskken…” Calion cut his cousin’s worrying short. He looked at the projection of the twins, his determined expression fading into soft, pleading eyes. “I really need your help with this. If I don’t get away from this place, I fear I may never leave at all. I want to see the world. I want to do it while I’m still young enough to appreciate it. I want to get out there before I'm forced to take the throne and run the whole nation. Please, cousins… you’re my only hope.” The twins looked at one another again. They nodded simultaneously, even if Whiskken was a little hesitant to agree.

“W-we might have an old hover scooter we don’t use anymore. We can bring it to you.”

“Ah, yes. The old girl is plenty fast. It should clear the distance from the Palace to the city in under an hour.”

“Thank you, guys.” He bowed to them, a maneuver that they assured him wasn’t necessary. It wasn’t something that just anyone could receive from a royal, be it family or not. To receive a bow from the king, queen, or prince was a sign of great respect and service to the crown. Not something that was handed out willy-nilly, but Calion was an atypical royal. Not many Ventrexians could accept such a gesture with a clear conscience, but that never stopped him from giving them away, nevertheless. “Remember, this has to be discreet. Is there anyone you trust enough to get you here without asking too many questions?”

“Hmmm.” The twins hummed together. “We can ask our driver, dear, HooHoo, to take us around the area. She is loyal to a fault and would not dare to speak about this if asked not to.”

“Good- good… okay. I just need you to hide it in the woods near the main gate. I’ll let you know when to do so. Thank you again, cousins.” After final formalities and an ‘I love you’ or two, Calion disconnected the call. His heart was racing, both out of nervousness and excitement. Was he really doing this? His only problem would be getting out of the front door, but he’d cross that bridge when he comes upon it. For now, he had to focus on getting through the palace, securing his route, and avoiding Nikos, who would no doubt be patrolling all night long. Even with all of the possible obstacles set before him, Calion was confident he could do this. He was going to see the world no matter what.   

Chapter Text

The prince hummed out in curiosity; his contemplation filled the silence of his room. He paced around his room, his fingers stroking along his chin and his bare feet dragging across the lavish Movalkian wool carpets beneath him. He was lost deep in thought and doing his best to ponder a plan to leave the palace. What he had put together so far seemed sound; he had his route mapped out, the guards for the night in mind, and even had come up with a plan to make it out of the front entrance, more or less. His only issue, and his biggest obstacle, was his cutthroat of a guard cousin, Nikos.

How was Calion going to get around him? It wasn’t enough to stay vigilant and move with a weary step. Nikos could quite literally smell him. He had his scent mentally archived. How was he going to combat that? Calion knew he couldn’t just sneak around the man like he would anyone else. He got too nervous around his cousin. He needed another way. He needed to cover his scent but he didn’t know how on Ventrexia he was supposed to do that.

He thought of a few ways and came up with some ideas that might have helped. He thought of masking his scent in something strong, like the smell of Purrice's chocolate or something more citrusy or sour to throw Nikos off of his game, but the more he went over that idea, the more ridiculous it sounded. If Nikos could smell Calion, why would he turn a blind eye to another strange smell that had suddenly appeared around him? What would stop him from investigating it?

Calion let out an indignant grunt as his pacing came to a brisk stop. “That plan wouldn’t work. Of course it wouldn’t.” He berated himself, slapping a palm to his head. He could do better than covering himself in chocolate, couldn’t he? He needed to do better. He needed something useful, something that would basically turn him invisible and hide him from Nikos’ nose. Something he didn’t have and wasn’t sure even existed. “Ughhh!” He groaned, nearly hissing into his hand with frustration. He was still, and for a good while, he stayed like that. Disappointment filled his mind as clouds of self-deprecation flooded in to wash over him. He was a fool if he thought he could outsmart his cousin. What he really needed was a miracle.

“Hello.” A knock and a voice came at the door to his quarters. Before he could give them permission to enter, a tall stature and snow white fur had already allowed himself in. “Calion hon. Have you forgotten your studies for today?” Cookie said, sauntering over to Calion. “Or are you trying to avoid me now?” He smiled and affixed his hands to his hips.

“Oh shoot, I'm sorry, Cookie, I was just-” Calion stopped himself before he could say any more than he needed to. “I was distracted.”

“Oh?” Cookie raised a curious brow, his smile disappearing like a shadow in the dark. “By what, may I ask?”

“Uhhh.” Calion rubbed at his neck as his tail began to sway nervously. “It’s nothing, honest. Just a private matter.” 

“Hmm…” Cookie hummed loud enough for Calion to take notice. It was the kind of hum that suggested that there were no hiding secrets from the man. “Oh, I can tell it’s not nothing. The way you rub your neck, the way your ears fold back on your head, and how your tail sways quickly, tell me it’s something. You’re hiding something, aren't you?” His smile returned as a toothy, slightly creepy grin that stretched far along his cheeks. Calion grabbed his tail quickly, forcing it to hold still, and straightened out his ears. Cookie was surprisingly observant. Was the man really that good at weeding out dishonest flaws in people, or was Calion just getting sloppy in his mendacious capabilities?

He sighed. “Okay, okay, just… Please promise not to freak out on me.”

“Hmmm… Okay, I'm interested. I promise not to freak out.”

“Okay.” Calion drew in a deep breath and pondered his next words before speaking them. “I'm sneaking out.” He nearly flinched, letting the words fly quickly and without pause.

“What?”

“I'm sneaking out of the palace and going to the city, because I have no idea what the outside is like and I want to do it while I'm still young enough to appreciate it, and I have a plan to get out but I don’t know how I’m going to get past Nikos, because he can smell me when I'm scared, did you know he smell me when I'm scared, I just needed to get past him but I don’t know how I’m going to do that, I need a way to hide my scent or surprise my fear or something like that and I don’t know what I'm going to do,” Calion explained all in one breath. He panted heavily, mentally lashing himself for his messy and nearly unclear explanation.

Cookie was quiet, his eyes squinted at the young prince. “Hmmm, so you’re planning on leaving the Palace by yourself, without informing anyone?” Calion nodded with heavy breaths. “Scandalous. You do know, though, that you’re in for some serious trouble if you’re caught?”

“No one will find out. If I stick to my plan, no one will find out.” Calion said, assured of himself and his capabilities. He’d been doing this kind of thing for a while, granted nothing so ambitious, but that shouldn’t matter. He had picked up on new tracks and learned from old ones as well, and there was no way this could end in disaster. 

“Hmm…” Cookie kept a skeptical squint on the boy. His silence spoke loudly in the brief lull, “Well, I support it.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” Cookie bent over, bringing his face close to Calion’s. “This is exactly what being an artist is truly about. Lived experiences and life-altering risks that will leave an impact on your soul and, therefore, your artistic ability and inspiration. Oh, Calion, you have to go.” 

“I know, but my problem is Nikos.” The man stood straight again, a thoughtful look stretching over his expression.

“You’re right. You definitely won't get past Nikos.” Calion threw his arms out as if that weren't obvious. “At least not without help.” Cookie walked back over to Calion. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device. “Here.” He held the device out to the prince. “It’s something special. A scent cloaker. You use it when you want to hide your scent from others. All you have to do is squeeze down on it.”

Calion took a look at the object. It was small, silver, and shaped like a teardrop. “Scent cloaker?” Calion gently took up the device and squinted at it. “Isn’t this kind of technology not allowed in the palace? Why do you have one, Cookie?”

The man tossed his eyes away from Calion in an innocent manner and smirked softly. “ Some of the other guards and servants like to sneak away and play cards, and we all know that scent plays an important role in games like that.”

“Oh,” Calion muttered as he kept his attention on the device. “I didn’t know that.” He uttered the truth. If Cookie was being honest, Calion wondered just how many of the guards and servants had one of these cloaking devices. What made them think it was okay to bring them into the palace? If Nikos knew about it, he’d have a field day handing out resignations and court martials to everyone with one of the devices. “How come you’re giving this to me?”

“Calion.” Cookie cooed. “Like I said, taking risks will leave an impact on you. You are an amazing artist and musician, but there's only so much you can learn within the confines of a gilded cage, my love. I want you to get out there, see all there is to see. And when you finally realize what you’ve been missing. You’ll truly understand.”

Calion looked away from the cloaker and brought his eyes back up to Cookie. The man was still smiling at him, the warm glow of his grin sent Calion’s heart into an uproar.

“Thank you.” He threw himself around his tutor, wrapping his arms around the man's small waist and hugging him tightly. “This kindness won’t go to waste, I swear.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, honey. Just promise you’ll have fun out there and tell me all about it when you come back.”

“I promise."

“Good,” Cookie whispered, his tone filled with a sort of finesse Calion could not quite decipher. “Now come along. We have some learning to do. I want to teach you more about your great uncle Catonova.”

-/-/-/-/-/-/

The rest of the day carried on as it usually did. Calion did some painting and music making with Cookie and learned more about his culture through his other studies. That day, he learned more about Catonova, an old lord of house Cato who'd lived over a century ago and a man who was far from the typical Ventrexian. He was less of a warlord and more of an artisan; his preferred weapon was a brush, and his sense of style single-handedly ushered in a Ventrexian cultural renaissance. He was also a man of many romantic affairs, finding himself in the bed of many a Ventrexian, both men and women. Needless to say, Catonova was one of Calion's favorite subjects and someone he could easily see himself in, for the most part.  

Now night had arrived, and like clockwork, Calion was back in his room. Nikos had accompanied him like he always did and made sure the room was safe for the prince to lay his head as many a night before then. 

“Okay,” Nikos announced, checking under the prince's bed before standing back on his feet. “Noting in the closet, nothing in the corners, nothing under the bed. Everything appears to be secure." He declared with his usual pride in his puffed-out chest. Calion wasn’t surprised; there was never anything. Still, that never stopped Nikos or any of the other guards from looking.

“Thank you, Nikos. My savor as always.”

“Of course. It is always my pleasure to serve.” He bowed, not picking up on the clear derision in Calion's voice. He ushered Calion into bed and tucked him in, not too tight and not too loosely. Nikos was good at finding that sweet spot of comfort, and the prince was blessed to have him for that. “Blessed dreams, cousin,” Nikos whispered, smiling warmly at the prince before exiting the room.

Calion watched the door for a good long while. He didn’t move just yet, giving it a moment to make sure Nikos was well and truly away before ripping the blanket off his body. He reached under his pillow to grab the device Cookie had given him and rushed to his closet. Once inside, he immediately got to searching for the blandest pieces of clothing he could find. It didn’t matter what he wore necessarily, but while he was out in the city, he didn’t want to run the risk of being spotted by wearing something typical of a prince, and drawing the least amount of attention possible seemed like a logical approach. He chose a simple band tee with the words Loggins printed over the chest, gray trousers, a pair of boots, and an almond-colored cloak. Everything but the cloak was imported from Earth, gifts from his parents since they knew Earth fashion was all the rage those days. Calion didn’t exactly know what a Loggins was; he never really got the chance to listen to a lot of Earth music, but he figured they had to be popular to get their own clothing line.

Calion also grabbed a few extra pillows out of the closet before stepping back into the room proper and heading over to his bed. He arranged the pillows in a boy-shaped pile on his bed and covered them neatly with the blanket he had cast aside moments earlier. He took a step back to observe the handiwork. It didn’t look bad, maybe. If he squinted his eyes in the dark, then the blanket would appear as the vague shape of a boy. It would have to do.

Calion rushed to the door next. Before even considering rushing out, he stopped and pressed an ear to the white wood. He didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary, didn’t get the sense that anyone was stalking outside of his door. Normally, his quarters went unguarded for the most part. A guard would be sent that way to check up on him, poking their head into the room to make sure he was still there, but guards were rarely ever posted outside of his door, strangely enough.

Calion peered at the device that rested in his palm. He let a nervous breath flow through his nostrils and closed his eyes. He prayed then to Ventrexia or Cala or Lio or whoever would care to listen, and squeezed down on the small object like Cookie had told him to. Instantly, a white light morphed around his body like a shield before fading around him. Calion checked himself afterward. He didn’t feel any different. Everything seemed the same; his hearing was fine; his sense of smell appeared to be unchanged. “Did it work?” He questioned the legitimacy of the device. Would it genuinely work, or was this a ruse set up by Nikos or Catomar or his parents to catch him in the act of trying to escape? There was only one way to find out at that point. Ventrexia, have mercy on him.

Calion opened the door slowly. As predicted, there were no guards outside his door. So far, so good. He took a careful step into the hall, looked one silent way and down the other. All was quiet, serene as it had been for so many days before that. So far, so good.

His home was so different during the night. The cavernous halls that were so bustling with servants and guards looked so vacant in the pale moonlight that shone in from the tall windows. Now it was silent, peaceful, and stalked by single-man patrols with flashlight drones that hovered beside them. Usually, Calion found the act of sneaking around the palace so simple. He would even compare it to a child's game at times. To the palace tower, to his parents' private apartments, there was nowhere Calion felt he couldn’t go unseen. Now, however, the prince couldn’t help but feel a little more nervous than usual.

Despite it being the dead of night, the guards were far more on edge than they usually were at sunrise. They were more observant, more prone to lingering in spots just to be sure that the shadow they had seen out of the corner of their eye wasn’t anything suspicious. Calion swore he could even see their fur standing on end.

They never caught him; despite their lingering gazes and scanner drones, they never saw the prince once. He had a lot of experience over the years, and despite being as young as he was, he would call himself an old hand at stalking around the palace unnoticed.

Calion would manage to find his way into the courtyard not too long after finding the nearest exit from the rear of the palace. He could have taken a chance and stuck to the halls, but he felt the inner gardens of the courtyard would provide better cover than anything in the halls of his home could. Besides, it would make for a much faster journey to cross the large courtyard than to duck in and out of rooms to avoid paranoid guards.

The guard situation hadn’t improved, however. There only seemed to be more of them patrolling the inner gardens at once. Still, that wouldn’t stop Calion. He had a goal, and he wasn’t going to let a little setback get in his way.

He immediately went to work, using the many bushes, trees, and hedge fences the garden provided to his advantage. There were moments when he thought he’d be caught. Moments when a guard had gotten a little too close to where he was hiding, and a moment when he thought his progress might be stunted by a cluster of guards all standing around and chatting to one another, but still, he managed to proceed.

 As he approached the door to the front wings of the palace, Calion felt he was in the clear, then Nikos appeared. He stepped out of one of the many doors and marched into the courtyard with a commanding step. Two drones hovered beside him, though he would not solely rely on them. He’d rather trust his own skills than the programming of some robot, but he wasn’t opposed to utilizing tools provided to him on necessary occasions.

Calion’s nerves spiked to worrying levels when his eyes fell upon his cousin. Thus far, he had managed to cross the courtyard with little to no issue, but as soon as Nikos arrived, all of his confidence fell to the wayside. The night guards may have been more vigilant than normal, but they were still nothing compared to Nikos. He was far more vigilant, far more paranoid, and far more cunning than Calion ever gave him credit for. If there was something to be found, Nikos would find it. If there was something odd lurking in the shadows, he would investigate it. If he saw something out of the corner of his eyes, he’d track it down. It didn’t matter if it was nothing at all; the man did not take chances. Anything that existed within those palace walls without his knowledge existed without his consent.

Calion quickly fell out of sight, his nerves kicking up like dust in a sandstorm as he quietly and carefully slinked off to a nearby bush. Nikos walked to where he’d hidden and abruptly stopped. He looked around, his cold blue eyes scanning the landscape for any oddities. It was as if he could sense something was amidst simply on instinct alone. He sniffed at the air, taking in a deep whiff of his surroundings. Calion's heart began to beat violently in his chest. This was his monument of truth. This would determine if the cloaker was the real deal or not.

Nikos grunted spitefully to himself. “Start scanning the area.” He said, sending both drones further into the courtyard. After another round of sniffing and not smelling much of anything, he would move on, leaving Calion a clear path out of the courtyard, which he would take without delay. So far, so good. 

He fell into the doorway, running down the long, cavernous hall at full speed. He rounded a corner, immediately falling back at the sight of two guards.

“Crap.” Calion hissed in a slight panic as he hugged himself to the wall. Did they see him? Calion, carefully and hesitantly, poked his head back around the corner. He was expecting the two guards to be halfway alerted to his position, but what he found instead nearly sent his head into a tizzy. Both guards were too preoccupied with each other's mouths to take heed of their surroundings. Instead of keeping watch, the two were deep in the throes of romance and on the verge of stepping right into lovemaking. Their hands invaded every inch of one another's bodies, ruffling their uniforms as they paid no mind to anything that wasn’t them. Their mouths seemed locked in a forever struggle of supremacy as their tongues pushed in and out of each other's mouths. The bigger guard, who had the other pinned to the wall, looked as if he were trying to eat the smaller one's face whole. Calion felt odd watching the two. He was not only uncomfortable, but he felt a strand of guilt peeping in on what was clearly a private moment. Still, he couldn’t look away for some reason.

“Ahem!” The sound of a throat clearing angrily separated the guards instantly. Out of fear, Calion ducked back behind the wall at the sight of the third-party intruder. Nikos, stepping out from nowhere at all, stared at the two guards with a burning blue fury. His striking blue eyes traced all along the guards, from their disheveled fur to their unkempt uniforms. Had those eyes been rifles, the two would have surely been dead. “None of that now. Save it for when you’re off duty. And for Ventrexia's sake, fix yourselves up.” He spat.

“Yes, sir.”

“Y-yes, sir.” Both guards saluted, patting down their uniforms and resuming their patrol together. Nikos groaned, shaking his head before marching off. Calion sighed gently as his cousin moved on. How’d he get there so fast? It seemed only minutes ago he had just stepped into the courtyard, and now he was back on that side of the palace. Calion understood that Nikos was the best of the bunch, but he didn’t have to take his job that seriously, did he? Calion pushed his overthinking aside and carried on while he still had the chance. What he didn’t want to do now was linger, knowing Nikos was about, cloaker or not.   

He was getting close now, so close that he could test the freedom on his tongue. There wasn’t much left, simply a turn or two, a room here and there, and he was in the foyer. Luckily for him, it was empty. The door had been wide open, which concerned Calion for a moment, but not by a great degree. He stepped into the entrance hall, past the grand staircase that led to the upper levels of the palace, where his journey had begun, and ran up to a window.

He peered down the brightly lit steps that led to the curb of the driveway, where a truck sat parked. There were two guards stationed on the stairs, conversing with one another and seemingly waiting for something, though he wasn’t sure what.

“Oh man,” Calion muttered to himself. “What do I do now?”

“Cal?” Calion jolted; the hair on his back stood on end. He turned around instantly, meeting the confused gaze of Purrice. Just what he needed. “What are you doing out of your room this late?”

“Uhhh…” Calion stalled longer than he meant to. “I was-... I was just… out for a walk… and my throat was parched, so I thought about getting some water…” Calion stopped, gazing into the man's eyes. A deep sense of guilt struck him like a hot shot to the chest. Could he go on like that? Could he really lie to Purrice? He decided he couldn’t, not like his little lie was going anywhere anyway.“I was going to the city.”

“What?” Purrice’s shock had grown far more bewildered at Calion’s admittance. “What do you mean you’re going to the city?”

“Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I really want to do this Purrice. I feel like I need to.”

“Need to?” Purrice chuckled more out of confusion than anything else. “Wha-... Do you even know how you’re going to get past the front gate?”

“More or less…” Calion bobbed his head, knowing no real plan existed. “No, but I'm still thinking about how. Maybe you can help?” Calion asked without a second thought of what he was proposing. Purrice just laughed again, still shocked and maybe even more so by the prince's inquiry.

“Cal, I could get into some serious trouble by even considering that. Please go back to your room before someone sees you.”

“But Purrice. I need to do this. I need to know what it’s like out there. Please, isn't there any way you could help me? I'm so close now, at the final stretch. It’s right there, I just need a bit more help.” He clenched his hands together and gazed up at Purrice with a prideless, pleading look in his eyes. He didn’t care how he looked then. Calion would sooner be the prince who bowed to his servants than be stuck in his own home for any longer.

“Cal, please don’t…” He started but stopped just as quickly. His worry had long since morphed into a softer look. “Okay- okey… just stand up. A prince should not behave like this. Me and some of the others were heading into town. I should not ask you to do this, but if I distract the guards taking us, you can hitch a ride beneath the truck.”

“Really.” Calion beamed at the man. His excitement wanted him to scream at the top of his lungs, but he managed to contain himself nevertheless.

“Just don’t hurt yourself, okay. If this feels like too much, go back to your room. Maybe I can convince someone to let you tag along with me into the city the next time I go.”  

“I can do it,” Calion said, causing Purrice to sigh. Clearly, that wasn’t the response he was hoping for. 

“Okay,” Purrice said before making his way out of the front door, walking over to the two guards who were lounging on the stairs.

He immediately began distracting the guards, guiding their attention to one side of the stone-carved staircase. Calion took that as his cue to get a move on. He descended the stairs as carefully as he could and, on Purrice’s suggestion, crawled underneath the truck that was parked at the bottom and latched himself onto the undercarriage.

After a few minutes, the truck filled up with a few hollowing servants. Purrice said they were going into the city themselves, but he never made mention of what for. Whatever it was, they were clearly excited for it. Soon, the truck began to move. Calion held tightly to the vehicle's undercarriage, his heart racing at a moderate rate by now. Rubble kicked out from the wheels, hitting Calion as they rode over the cobblestone paths.

The vehicle came to a stop after a short time, and the old familiar groaning of a golden gate began to ring through his ears. What was usually the bane of his hearing most days, something that reminded him of who he was and where he came from, had become the sweetest sound that night.

The truck began to move again as the groaning stopped. Cobblestone paths had turned into dirt roads as Calion continued to hold on to the truck's undercarriage for dear life. As soon as he felt they were far enough away from the main gate, Calion let go of the undercarriage and dropped onto the dirt path roughly. 

The fall had nearly knocked the wind right out of him, but he was okay otherwise. He stood, watching as the truck drove off into the night, leaving a ball of dust in its wake. It was then, as he was picking himself up and dusting down his clothes, that he realized he was outside. Not with his parents in some lavish car or on the palace grounds, but outside, with the trees that had grown naturally and animals that scurried freely in the thick brush. Even the air seemed a bit different, fresher. Was this real? Was he actually here, or was he dreaming again? He took in a deep whiff, his heart climbing down from nervous highs, and he knew he wasn’t dreaming. He’d been waiting for this moment his entire life. A moment he thought would never come, but there it was now.

“Right,” Calion murmured, remembering that his plan had not yet reached its conclusion. He brought up his Helix and tapped on the screen. A tiny dot pulsed on the blue background of the screen. He had instructed his cousins to hide the scooter in the nearby thicket and to send him a tracker of its location so that he could easily find it once he was out. His cousins had followed his instructions perfectly, and to his luck, the scooter was nearby. Calion followed the directions and stumbled upon the scooter quickly. He dug the vehicle out of the brush it was covered by and steadied it beneath him. “How do I…” He hummed, tapping on a button at the center of the handlebars as it began to hover upward. “Woah- okay.” He giggled. The scooter took some getting used to. Calion had never been on something like it before. It rocked and swayed on it on, nearly slamming into a tree at one point, but he managed to tame it with ease. “Okay. Let's go.” He said, hitting the dirt path until it had become black pavement.

Calion rode for a while and came to a stop at the edge of a hillside. His jaw nearly hit the handlebars of his new scooter as his eyes came to rest on the city. It was closer than he had ever seen it with unfiltered eyes, shining richly in the night like a diamond in the desert. He was almost there, so close now, and nothing was going to stop him. The time had come. He’s waited long enough to see the world, far longer than any child should have to wait, and he was going to savor every single moment before the night was done.

“So far so good.”  

Chapter Text

The wind rustled through his fur and howled in his ears, the end of his long brown cape beating against his heels as his scooter tore through the night. He fled from the sight of the palace at mock speed, as fast as he could go, and he wouldn’t stop for anything. The handlebars rumbled and jittered under his hands, and the scooter felt like it would give way beneath him at any moment. Even so, Calion kept the same dangerous speed as the wilderness turned to garden, nature-rich suburbs, and then to the threshold of a city skyline.

After some time, the scooter came to a stop at an intersection leading further into the city. Finally, after so long, his eyes fell upon the metal megastructures he was so accustomed to seeing from a distance. “So close now.” He whispered with quiet enthusiasm and took a moment to soak in that momentous moment. He took a breath; his nerves were climbing high once again, and he could feel it. This was his moment, a moment he’d dreamt of for nights upon nights in the quiet backdrop of his ‘gilded cage’ as Cookie would put it.

A self-indulgent smile crossed his lips, and he knew he was ready to continue. Riving up his scooter, Calion took the road leading into the city. It didn’t take long for him to enter the city, for the stars in the sky to fade into steel overpasses and walkways, and for him to be flanked on all ends by towering buildings. The streets changed from empty suburbs to bustling roads in the blink of an eye. Cars zoomed past him, honking at him to move his dinky little scooter out of the way of their hulking hunks of rolling metal. Calion did his best to stay out of the street, hopping off the scooter and walking it to a nearby sidewalk.

He took a look around as he walked down the crowded curb. His eyes wandered aimlessly to anything and everything he found interesting. Again, Calion couldn’t believe himself, where he was, and what he was doing. He was actually in the city, not some simulation or the wilderness surrounding the palace, but the actual city itself. It was amazing, even more beautiful than he could have ever envisioned in all his hours of daydreaming. The buildings stood so tall they crooked and groaned loudly into the night. Railway lines snaked in between the massive structures, and every once in a while, a train would pass by, weaving in between them. The neon and bright lights from holographic billboards shone so brightly that they nearly rendered the boy blind. There were advertisements everywhere for everything: washing machines, home security systems, casinos, and soft drinks. Some adverts he’d seen were more subtle than others and less lewd. Calion knew Ventrexians were not modest in the slightest when it came to sex. But seeing billboards advertising adult vods, gentlemen's clubs, and brothels so freely threw his young, precious mind into a major shock. 

After taking in as much as he felt he could handle, Calion brought his gaze from the city skyline back down to street level and to the people there. His heart couldn’t stop racing at the sight of them. He couldn’t help but stare. For the first time, he did not see rigid postures, frightened looks, or obedient bows. He just saw people. People talking, walking, paying him no mind once, so ever. They owed him nothing; they saw him as nothing. They weren't guards or servants or royals. They were simply Ventrexians. He had no words for the sights and sounds he was subjected to then. This wasn’t like the simulations, not by a long shot. This was so much more.

Calion kept his hood up over his ears as he walked his scooter down the crowded sidewalks. There was so much to see, his eyes were full of wonder and a slight spark of inspiration. Was that what Cookie meant by finding inspiration in lived experiences? Calion certainly felt inspired, and he had only been in the city for a few minutes, give or take. If this was how it felt, liberating and independent, then he needed more of it. Calion needed to find more, to do more, but how was he going to do that? For as much as he loved being there, the young prince found himself struck with a kind of indecision in his actions.

It was then, as he trudged aimlessly through the brightly lit streets of Ventrex, his nose drew him to a certain scent. He stopped dead in his tracks. A scent wafted into his nostrils that mesmerized his mind and bewildered his body. He followed the scent, eyes closed and nose riding a wave of pleasure to paradise. His nose brought him down a street, his body moving almost to its own drumbeat of immaculate smells. Once he rounded a corner, his eyes fluttered open and went wide. Following the scent had brought Calion to some sort of open market.

“Whoa.” He gasped breathlessly as he stepped into the market with his scooter in hand. When he did, his senses were overwhelmed with nervous joy. His ears swelled with the sound of music and chatter from the bustling stalls and crowds of passersby. The scent that had brought him there intensified, filling his nose with the smell of spices, sweets, and fish. His heart beat faster and faster with no clear understanding as to why. He didn’t know how to feel being there. He was excited and nervous and lost all at the same time, and the feeling gave him such a rush.

He looked around, his eyes in a wonderful gape. The market was huge. Storefronts lit up the surrounding areas with bright neon signage, and around every corner, there seemed to be a stall selling something. Whether it be food or music or clothing, there wasn’t a thing there Calion couldn’t buy, and he was all so tempted.

He stopped at a food stall, letting his scooter rest on the side of the little shack. He peered over the counter and to the man hard at work firing something up. Calion couldn’t see what it was, but his nose found the scent delectable and irresistible. There were a few people at the stall, all sitting around and waiting for their meals to be served. Some talked with one another while others waited alone, scrolling through the net on their communication devices. Calion gently ripped his eyes from the chef behind the counter and brought them to the overhead menu hanging just above the stall. The menu was familiar to him, at least. Most of the meals available were traditional Ventrexian delicacies that ranged from fish meat to exotic fruit.

“Can I help you, kid?” The man growled out, pulling Calion out of his gawking at the menu with a slight start. The man was big as a tree, voice gruff like razorstone, and fur gray, ruffled and weathered with age. He had a deep, sharp scar over one milky white eye that reached down to his cheek, and one ear was half chewed off. Calion thought he was either a veteran or a man with a substantially tough life.

“Oh- no, no- I just-” Calion paused, turning his eyes away from the man and bringing them down to the messy wooden countertop. “What is this place? This whole place, I mean.” The man looked at him with an almost confused stare as one eyebrow raised high above his head.

“Huh?” He grunted. “Haven't you heard a Mewlo market before, kid?” He spoke half annoyed and half curious before leaning in with a squint. “Say… Haven't I seen you around here before?” He said, an investigative squint deepening ever further as he watched the boy closely.

“What?- No.” Calion backed away quickly and pulled his hood over his head as far as it would allow. “I’ll be on my way. Sorry for bothering you.” He ran over to his scooter, took it up, and walked off without another word. The man didn’t say much to stop him, just watched him walk with that curious squint in his eyes. Calion thought it would be best if he kept his distance, especially from some of the older people out and about. The last thing he wanted to do was expose himself as the prince.

Calion continued his trek through the market, which he now knew was called Mewlo market, with a weary stride in his step. He knew that name. It was a sort of flower from the far eastern territories of Ventrexia. It bloomed from twisted trees and had a slight pinkish hue to its petals. Come to think of it, the more he looked around, the more he could see the eastern influences of this side of the city. There were a lot of small shrines, temple-like structures darted around the market, words in the eastern languages written on some of the stores and stalls, and murals with imagery of the lands painted on the walls. 

Despite his first encounter nearly costing him dearly, that didn’t stop the young prince from exploring every inch of Mewlo. From the glowing storefronts to some of the other market stalls, Calion set out to experience it all.

“Hey!” Calion looked to one of the market stalls, the sound of a desperate screech catching his attention. “Let go of me.”

“You have to pay for that kid.”

“I was, I just… let go.” A child, no older than Calion, with smooth, dirty white fur, struggled against the grip of the older woman. Her claws clung tightly around his wrist as she ignored his pleas of mercy.

“Not until you pay me or the authorities come, and don’t think I forgot about your little friends.” The woman hissed at the child. Calion looked on before turning his head away. That didn’t seem good. Should he step in? Every bone in his body wanted to so badly, though he knew it was wiser to leave the issue be lest he be discovered. Even with that reasoning, he found himself unable to move on. His body refused to go as a surge of guilt shot through his mind at the thought of leaving this boy behind. But why? 

“Um, excuse me.” Calion shuffled up to the pair, rolling his scooter along. They each cast a gaze at him, one out of fear and the other out of anger. “My apologies for my friend. I told him to stick with me since I have all the money. I can pay for that now.” The woman raised a brow, clearing, knowing something was up. Calion let his scooter rest on the side of the stall and pulled a small pouch out from under his cloak. “How much was it?”

The women hummed. “50 Trexims.” Calion nodded and reached into the pouch, pulling out a gold coin with the image of a helmet embroidered on its surface. In shock, the woman let go of the boy and moved to pick up the piece of gold. She looked at it, squinted, and even bit down on the coin to test its legitimacy. “Avo…” The woman gasped. “This is way too much, child. Where’d a young kit like you get this much money anyway?”

“Oh, umm…” Calion stalled a bit, his tail beginning to sway gently as his mind raced. “My… family is well off…” He said, excluding just how well off his family was. The woman continued to stare at the coin, bewildered.

“But a piece?” 

“It’s fine, ma’am. You can keep that change. See it as an apology for my friend's reckless behavior.” Calion spoke up quickly, not wanting to linger on why he had physical Trexims to begin with.

The woman squinted, suspiciously eyeing Calion’s hooded figure before she shrugged. “If it comes out that you stole these from somewhere… Avo preserve me.” She whispered, sounding almost defeated. “Doesn’t matter. Money is money, and this is sorely needed at the moment." She said, going back to her stall and returning to the boy she’d held captive. She shoved something in his hands, a sort of statue, with a sneer over her lips. “You boys go on now, and stay out of trouble.” Both boys nodded, and after grabbing his scooter, they would take off.

Calion walked beside the boy in silence. Not a word was shared as he gripped tightly to the statue shoved into his hands. Calion looked over at him, trying to get a good look at the object he’d almost gotten himself in trouble for. It looked like a visage of Ventrexia. A fetish of her motherly form holding up a star far above her head.

“That was amazing.” The boy finally spoke, stopping and turning to Calion with a smile. “The way you came over and shut that lady up.”

“Ah.” Calion smiled back. “It was nothing. I just figured, why not lend a hand?”

“Well, it was awesome. Where did you get all that money from anyway?” Calion tensed up again, not expecting to revisit this conversation so soon. “Did you steal it from somewhere?”

“No, no,” Calion said quickly. “Like I said before, my family is well off.”

“Well, they must be extremely rich, because no one uses pieces anymore. They’re like gold bars, except less so, I guess.” 

“Oh… right…” Calion muttered and looked away from the boy then. He didn’t really know that. The money came from the palace treasury, and that was all they had in the way of physical money. He thought it would be fine to take some at the time, but maybe he was wrong. If anything would give him away, it would be his use of money. He felt so out of touch then.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter. Whether you stole it or not, your secret is safe with me. You saved my fur after all.”

“Cattole!” The shrill voice of a girl rang through the market as two more kids ran up to greet the boy. “We thought you were dead.” She said, a smile caressing over her light brown fur despite her concern.

“Yeah, how’d you get away from that crazy crone?” Another boy with gray fur, coming up behind the girl, glanced his greenish eyes over her shoulder. 

“No thanks to you two, that's for sure.” He said. The girl just smiled innocently and crossed her arms. When her eyes moved to Calion, that smile quickly dropped. 

“Who's that? New boyfriend.” She said somewhat teasingly.

“Ew, no. He’s the reason I managed to get away in the first place. Meowmalade, Clawben, this is… uhh…” He turned to Calion, realizing that he had yet to get his savior's name.

“I'm Ca-” On the verge of revealing himself in his excitement, Calion froze up. He thought fast and hard, one word and another invading his mind at the same time, “Ca… Cato- Cado… Avocado…” Calion said, choking down a lump as he spoke. He couldn’t help himself, the words coming as fast as the thought of Cookie and his cousin combined.

“Avocado?” The girl, Meowmalade, arched a brow at the boy in the hood. “That’s an odd name. Isn’t that an earth vegetable?”

“An earth fruit,” the other boy, Clawben, corrected her. “My mom buys them all the time from the market. She loves them. I don’t love them, though. They're too icky to be a fruit."

“That’s why you shouldn’t call vegetables fruit.”

“But they are fruit, just not good fruit.”

“Okay, guys, please, you’re going to make him feel bad.” Cattole put an end to the pair's back and forth and shook his head at them. “Sorry for them. They've taken too many smacks to the head. It’s nice to meet you, Avocado.”

“The pleasure is mine, Cattole.” The boy reached out his hand, but without a second thought, Calion bowed at him in place of accepting his gesture. It was a traditional bow used for greeting newcomers in the royal world. However, when Calion looked back up at the group of kids, all he could find were odd looks on their faces. Just then, he felt a hot flush gather to his cheeks as Cattole slowly put his hand away.

“O-kay.” Meowmalade smiled a bit awkwardly at the hooded boy. “Well, your parents must really like earth fruit-vegetables to name you after one.”

“My parents… Are exotic people.” Calion brought a hand to his neck, regretting his choice of false name.

“Well, that's no reason to make a child suffer,” Clawben added, stepping out from behind the girl finally.

“Agreed.” She said, walking up to Cattole beside Clawben. “Hey Cattole, look what I nicked.” Meowmalade presented a chain with a medallion dangling at the end. She had a proud look on her face, one that spoke to her cleverness, as she played with the chained medallion. 

“Guys. We were only here for the statue.” Cattole scolded his friends, gripping the statue in his hands tightly. “You could at least have waited for me before you took it.”

“Relaxe. No one even noticed-”

“Hey!” A shout ruptured through the market, snagging the kids' attention all at once. “Get back here, you little thieves!"

“I think he noticed,” Clawben said and took off in the opposite direction of the angry man. Meowmalade quickly followed.

“Guys, wait, I could just-”

“No time.” Before Calion could offer to pay for the medallion and get the furious merchant off their backs, Cattole grabbed him by the arm, ushering him away from the man and through the market.

The rest of that night for Calion was a blur. It was a mix of hiding around market stalls and running from angry store owners. The kids he had just met had dragged him all over, eventually stepping out of Mewlo market and back into the city proper. They did nothing but cause trouble for themselves afterward, trying to sneak into places they weren't allowed, nightclubs, gambling halls, bars. Anywhere kids weren't found that time of night, they wanted in. It never worked out, but it was always well worth the try, and Calion would follow along without question. Cattole did his best to tame his two friends, the best he could, though he could be just as bad as they.

They didn’t care about much, not authority, or rules, or looking presentable in public. They broke bottles for fun and fought with other misanthropic children. They weren't royals, they didn’t have high expectations, and they didn’t treat him like he was anything more important than them. They were just kids, they acted like kids, and they treated Calion as one too. And he loved it.

Some hours had passed, and the group found themselves resting on the curb of some quiet suburb none of them knew the name of. Calion sat with his scooter to one side of him and the group of kids on the other. After a night of running from adults, Calion didn’t mind a short break. It really was a nice neighborhood. Quiet and peaceful with not too many people out and about that time of the night, unlike the area near Mewlo market.

“So Avocado, are you excited for the brethren dance?”

“Brethren dance?” Calion threw his head back, slightly annoyed. “I totally forgot about that.”

“It’s a pretty big holiday. I don’t see how.” Cattole chuckled, paying more mind to his statue than the distressed boy beside him.

“Yeah, don’t remind me. My family treats it so seriously. I’ll probably be dancing with one of my cousins or some such.”

“Some such.” Cattole chuckled again. “I like how you talk, Avocado. It’s so prim and proper. Did your parents teach you how to do that?” Calion looked away from the boy as his cheeks lit up in a blaze of heat.

“Y-yeah… yeah they did…” A brief silence fell over the two afterward. After the heat had fled his cheeks, Calion would look to the boy beside him again. He was looking at the statute in his hands, a soft smile over his lips as he turned the object about. He seemed so enthralled with it. “Hey, Cattole.” Calion spoke, seemingly bringing the boy out of his trance. “I never asked. What's with that statue? Why did you try to steal it?”

“Oh.” The boy was quiet for a moment. He rotated the statue in his hands, observing every inch of the thing. “It belonged to my grandmother. My father had to pawn it at the market recently so we could have the money.”

“Pawn it?” Calion muttered. “Are things okay with your family?”

“We’re… struggling a bit. My mom and dad work tirelessly, but it never seems to be enough. It makes me sad to see them work so hard all the time. They aren't usually around, but I understand why they need to do it.”

“My dad says it’s the refugees' fault things got so bad,” Clawben said, his tone a bit absent of thought or empathy. “He says if they didn’t let in the foreigners, there would be jobs, and if there was jobs, then people could work, and if people could work, then things wouldn’t be so hard and expensive.”

“Yeah, but your dad blames everything for everything, Clawben. I don’t really think he knows what he’s complaining about half the time.” Meowmalade spoke up, still swinging the chain she had ‘borrowed’ from Mewlo market.

Refugees. Was Ventrexia facing a refugee problem? Calion hadn’t heard. Maybe he had read one or two articles on the issue, but he didn’t think there was an influx of people displaced from their homes. That thought didn’t make Calion feel good. He felt for his people and their struggles, he felt for the refugees forced from their home planets to a place that was unfamiliar in culture and lifestyles, and he felt for the kids who were missing their parents. 

“Maybe I can help,” Calion said without hesitation. “You can take my pieces, so your family won’t have to struggle anymore.”

“What?” Cattole nearly choked on his response, eyes going wide in shock. “No, I couldn’t. It seems wrong.”

“Since when have you cared about wrong and right all night?” Calion laughed. 

“I don’t know how I can pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about that. Just take them. Say you got them from a friend." Calion reached into his pocket, intending to grab his pouch full of Trexims and hand them off to the boy. As he pulled the pouch out, another object slipped out. His cloaker had hit the curb, bouncing off the edge of the sidewalk and falling into a sewer grate that the boy was sitting over. “Oh no!” Calion stood up quickly before crouching down at the grate.

“What? What happened?” Cattole stood as well, slightly panicked. 

“I just… I just lost something really important.”

“Looks like it fell down the sewer,” Meowmalade said, stating what was clearly obvious. Calion cursed himself. That's what he got for keeping two loose things in the same pocket.

“What am I gonna do? I needed that.”

The group was struck with a momentary silence, hums of consideration and planning filling the night air. “Well, let's go after it,” Clawben suggested ahead of the others. 

“What? Go into the sewer?”

“Of course. If you lose something, we gotta get it back right.” Meowmalade said, agreeing with the absorbed plan. Calion laughed to himself. These certainly were kids without class, and he liked them because of that.

“Okay.” Calion agreed. He really was about to trek through the sewers, for his cloaker wasn’t he? Well, he didn’t really mind. He could always take a nice bath once he was back home. He was due for one after this night anyway.

The kids stood ready to find a way into the sewer when suddenly two massive trucks screeched to a stop before them. Dust kicked up into the air, disorienting them. 

“What the!” One of the kids shouted Tho Calion wasn’t sure who. 

“I’ll return the medallion, I'm sorry!” Meowmalade cried, holding up her hands high in the air with the chain still between her fingers. They were confused, frightened, and that fear had only grown as the imperial guard began to exit the vehicles. They encircled the kids, rigid figures looming over them like monsters. From the truck, one boot slid out of the passenger door and slammed onto the ground with a thudding echo. A man stepped out, not too pleased, and after him, the blue eyes of a prided apex predator. 

“Oh no,” Calion murmured at the sight of Catomar with Nikos just behind him. Suddenly, things had gone silent, the dust had cleared, but the fear in Calion’s heart still remained. Catomar marched up to him, cast a burning glare down at the boy, and tore back his hood.

“Prince Calion.” He spoke in a frighteningly cold tone. The other kids, the friends he had just made look at him all at a loss for words. How could it be? How could they have found him? “Time to come home.”

Chapter Text

The ride back to the palace was a quiet one. Not a word was spoken between the guards, their commanding officers, or Calion. Eyes watched him, his every move monitored closely as he sat wedged between A fuming Catomar and an even more ticked off Nikos. They watched him with a cold, dead resolve. Their eyes, ever vigilant, burned hotter than any flame, were keener than any blade, and were louder than the silence they found themselves submerged within.

Calion messed up. He knew from the tight looks alone how badly he had dropped the ball, and the silence was even worse. Anything he did was met with a response; any slight bit of movement reacted to with a subtle rise in tension. The guards were ready for anything, as if Calion could do anything from where he sat. As if he could just disappear right on the spot before their very eyes. He sure wished he could then.

When they finally made it back to the palace and the trucks crawled to a stop at the base of the stairs leading up to his large home, Calion’s mood had reached the lowest it could go. At that moment, he felt like he would die. A sudden surge of anxiety had hit him like a tidal wave of pain as he was pulled out of the truck by Nikos.

They walked him up the stone stairs, each step met with another pulse of fear. He knew what awaited him, knew what was at the top of those steps, and he didn’t want to face it. He might have well been a prisoner on his march of shame then, escorted to his fate by his own loved ones no less. Calion wondered if it was too late to make a break for it. It was. Even if he were to weasel his way out of Nikos’ vise grip, the man was fast. He’d catch up quickly, and Calion would have made himself look even more foolish with the attempt.

Coming to the top of the stairs, the group was met with even more guards, standing tall at the palace entrance. Like the guards before, they watched Calion, and only Calion, closely. Nothing else mattered than the whereabouts of the young prince, who would, with no doubt, not be vanishing anytime soon.

“Open the doors,” Catomar commanded, and the guards at the door obliged with a bow. They shoved open the doors and gestured, sending the officers inside along with the prince. Catomar would take the lead, and to a more hesitant extent, Nikos would follow with Calion still caught in his grasp.

Once inside, Calion was met with what he feared to witness the most. Angry parents. Not just his mom or dad, but both of them at the same time. They stood tall, loomed over him like the king and queen of Ventrexia did with any of their subjects below them. They were not happy. They were so far from happy, and they made no attempt to hide it from their son. His mother’s face was cold, which was naturally expected, but it was the look on his father's face that hurt the worst. The man was so rarely angry with Calion, but then, in that moment, Calion could see how much of a disappointment he was to his bloodline.

“How could this have happened?” His father spoke, surprisingly not looking at Calion but instead bringing his furious gaze to the man holding him. 

“I don’t know my lord. I’m still working out the details-”

“Well, from the vods it seems like you very much intended for our son to slip past your ever-present gaze, Nikos.” Calion’s mother interrupted, her tone so frigid it could have frozen the whole palace over.

“I… It does seem that way… I have no excuse.” Nikos murmured as Calion looked up at him. The sight of the man was grueling, heart-wrenching… heart-breaking. It was the first time Calion had ever seen his cousin look so… defeated. He didn’t like it. Nikos was supposed to be strong and confident. The prince was feeling worse about his decision to leave every moment.

“I command you, take him to his quarters,” Lionidas spoke or growled more so. “We shall discuss this matter at a later point, but for now, do not let my son out of your sight again, or the consequence will be far more dire, Nikos.” The order came out as more of a warning as Nikos bowed quickly. He took Calion by the arm, and the boy didn’t complain as they marched, followed by a few more guards. Not as if he could complain if he wanted to.

The walk back to his room felt longer than the ride back home. The same silence still followed them closely, with only the sound of tall boots clacking against the floors to break it up. Nikos marched Calion by the arm the entire way. To the opposite side of him, Kedi stuck close as two more guards brought up the rear. It was a full-fledged escort. One that was not meant to be enjoyed.

Nikos pushed open the doors to his room and walked Calion in personally. Even when they were back in the safety of his quarters, his cousin refused to let go until Calion was sat firmly, and somewhat roughly, on his bed. Not much was said after that. Nikos simply paced back and forth before the boy, stroking his chin and mumbling to himself.

“Nikos I-”

“No words.” He said.

“But I didn’t mean-”

“Calion… no… words…” He said, louder and with his teeth angrily on display as he held up a silencing hand to the boy. He closed his eyes afterwards, running a displeased hand over his face before opening them again. He looked at Calion, his eyes filled with something that was neither pride nor strength. All the makings of the prefect Ventrexian were gone, and what remained was confusion, self-loathing… a pitiful frailty. It was nothing like him. Nothing at all. 

“How did you do it?” The man asked after a long pause.

“Do what?”

“Don’t do that with me, Calion. You know what I mean.” The man got closer, the pitiful look in his blue eyes morphing into an understandable angry glare. “How did you evade me? How did you hide your scent from me?”

“I…” Calion went hastily quiet as the question hit him like a brick. He thought back to Cookie then, and he thought of what Nikos might do if he found out the man was the cause behind his escape. “I don’t know.” He uttered, looking away from his cousin.

“Do not lie to me, Calion. I can smell it on you. Someone helped you. It was that cook, Purrice, wasn't it?”

“What, no, it wasn’t.”

“Then who!?” 

“I…” Another pause. “I don’t know.” Again, he refused. Nikos craned his head in annoyance.

“Well, whether it was him or not, he’s been let go nevertheless.”

“What!” Calion shouted, standing up from the bed automatically. “What, no, it wasn’t his fault, he had nothing to do with it.”

“The security vods clearly show him helping you to escape. He saw you and chose to lead you astray.”

“But it wasn’t his fault. I- I persuaded him into helping. You can’t fire him for that.”

“Then whose fault was it, Calion?” Calion went to speak, desperately wanting to save the cook he had grown so attached to, but again he was struck with another brief pause before turning away from his cousin.

“Calion, please.” Nikos’ blue eyes softened as he knelt down. He had tried patience, he had tried anger, and now he was trying a gentle kindness only ever afforded to his family. Still, Calion refused to speak. Nikos sighed deeply, clearly disappointed in his cousin's actions. “Calion, you cannot remain silent; you must say something. What would have happened if you got hurt? How do you suppose your parents would feel? How do you suppose I would feel?”

“But I didn’t get hurt. Honestly, it’s not as bad as everyone made it out to be. So what if the shadow claw is treating us? If they and their Gora wanted me so badly, they would have gotten me by now or when I was out there.”

Nikos raised a brow at the boy. “Where did you hear that name?” He asked, confusion dotting those blue eyes of his.

“The net is a thing, Nikos. Ever heard of it?” The boy rolled his eyes, scoffing sarcastically.

“You shouldn’t be able to access the net. The parental controls should be in place.”

“Huh?” Calion wondered with a scowl, barely able to decipher Nikos’ muttering. “What do you mean?"

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we found you just in time. I swear, if you didn’t have your Helix on…” Nikos fell into silence after speaking the words. Clear regret splashed along his face instantly.

“What? What are you talking about?” Calion questioned as the man’s eyes slowly drifted away from the boy. He then looked at his Helix, a sudden wave of relaxation hitting him all at once. “Are… are you tracking me?” Nikos clenched his teeth, still looking away from the boy. No wonder the sudden generosity of his parents couldn’t have been out of the kindness of their hearts. He should have known, should have clocked it from the moment Nikos stepped into the room with the device in hand. “Are you kidding me?”

“And what of it? What does it matter when your safety is on the line?”

“My safety?” He couldn’t help but laugh at the man, his parents, and the whole situation he found himself in. “My safety? Maybe everyone should stop worrying about my safety and start worrying about the safety of the people living on this planet. There are people out there struggling, Nikos. People with no money and no homes or jobs, or doing their best just to scrape by. We have enough money to feed the whole city if we wanted to. We have the power to make things right, and we don’t. Instead, we just sit in this palace, eating elaborate meals and- and walking cavern-sized halls and wearing expensive clothes. What about everyone else? The people we should be paying attention to? Our people?” Calion nearly cried, his heart racing as he, rather shamefully, repeated some of Cookie's sentiments.

“It is more a complicated matter than you presume, child.”

“Then make it less complicated. I don’t know. The people are what matters to this world. Not me or my parents. If I could give it all up, I would do it in a heartbeat. There wouldn’t be a monarchy if I were in charge. It should all go away, in my opinion. Maybe there won’t be when I'm king.”

“Calion!” Nikos growled, shutting the boy up quickly. Calion knew he had overstepped then. “Who has filled your mind with these… Thoughts? These dangerous thoughts?” He tried once more, and once more Calion could not force himself to speak. “Okay… okay. Remain silent if you wish, but I tell you now. I will find out who is responsible for this. For filling your head and poisoning your mind against your family. I don’t care how long it will take or what I have to do, but I will find out sooner or later.” Nikos stood again, squaring his uniform before the prince. Afterwards, he lifted Calion’s arm, stripping the Helix from his wrist.

“Hey!” He tried to protest to no avail.

“From here on out, you will not go anywhere without supervision. You will stay confined to your room unless you are needed elsewhere in the palace. You will have two guards accompanying you at all times. You are not to speak to any of the staff for the time being, and you are not meant to stray close to the palace gates. A guard will watch you while you sleep, eat, and bathe. You will not be returned this device until it has been thoroughly investigated, and your study sessions will be watched closely. Do I make myself clear?”

“What!” He yelled again. “No, you can’t do that!”

“Do… I make myself clear.” Nikos repeated, clearly no longer trying to bargain with the boy. Calion didn’t respond to him, simply puffing out his cheeks and crossing his arms. “Good.” Nikos turned and left the room. After a second, Kedi stepped into the room, the first guard meant to watch Calion in his sleep, he supposed.

“Damnit.” Calion cursed, falling back onto his bed.

“Hey, language.” The big Ventrexian said. Calion didn’t bother to look at him, but he could feel his eyes watching all the same. “Honestly, Calion, what made you go and do a thing like this? The whole palace was in an uproar.

Calion huffed and shook his head. He faced the ceiling, a large sense of defeat wafting over him as a frown pulled along his lips. 

“I just wanted to see the world.”   

Chapter Text

Calion let out a woeful sigh, lazily dragging his brush over the mostly blank canvas that stood before him. His tutor, Cookie, stood beside him, offering tips and methods on how to make his choice of paints pop best, though he was hardly listening. By his door on the other end of the room, a guard, Sergeant Smoll, stood constantly observing the pair as they worked. Calion was devastated having to be subjected to such absurd proceedings.

True to his word, Nikos had placed the prince under 24/7 observation. Calion couldn’t do much of anything without someone being there to watch him do it. Whether he was eating or sleeping or painting or making music or even using the bathroom, there was a pair of eyes to go along with what were normally mundane activities. He hated it, all the eyes, the constant watching and waiting for the prince to make even the slightest move was torture. It was so bad that Calion was sure Nikos would order Ventrexia herself to keep an eye on him if he could do so.

It had been 3 or so days since his lockdown had begun, but it felt more like years to the boy. A lot of his time was spent in his quarters. Not many people were allowed in or out, save for only the palace's most trusted guards when Calion was sleeping or studying. He didn’t like it, made it no secret that he didn’t like it, and complained any chance he got to anyone who would listen, to which there weren't many willing to. If anyone did, they never responded to him, choosing to treat him like a disobedient pet and ignore his outbursts and tantrums. When he was allowed to leave his room, when the servants came to clean and dress it, Nikos would always be close by, one clawed grip fastened tightly over the prince's shoulder. During these times, Nikos would escort Calion around the palace under strict scrutiny until the servants had completed their duty and the boy’s room was ready to re-enter.

Calion had given up trying to speak with any of his tutors. They mostly blamed him for the predicament he put himself in, saying that he had made this bed, now he shouldn’t complain about having to lie in it. He didn’t bother trying to speak with most of the guards. His jailers were only there for one thing, and conversation wasn’t a part of that objective. Calion thought he would at least find some camaraderie with Cookie, but even his favorite tutor was more reserved with the way he spoke around the prince. He didn’t talk about the people or the monarchy as much. He didn’t go on about the suffering of the average Ventrexian and the stuffing of fat cat lords, barons, dukes, counts, and so on. He didn’t speak about Ventrexia’s outdated ideology and a need for change as often as he did before Calion’s exodus, but the prince could hardly blame him. He didn’t want to give Nikos a reason. 

Still, Calion found the lack of Cookie’s normally ardent spirit odd. Like feeling the withdrawal efforts of something potent, a drag he couldn’t be without. He wanted so desperately for his tutor to speak, to tell him all the ways his family was wrong. Before, Calion wouldn’t have believed him quite so readily, but now he couldn’t help but see how true those words were. He wanted to tell Cookie how much he understood now, why he helped, why he wanted him to see the world.

Calion let out another sigh, bringing what little painting he’d managed to a complete stop. He delved deep into thought. The night of his escape had replayed within the deep recesses of his mind unendingly. He thought about the moment he left, how excited he was, how free he felt. He thought about the fear that came with being discovered, but also the joy of seeing the city for what it truly was. He thought about the friends he made that night and their rowdy nature. He thought about the looks on their faces when his blue braided hair was unveiled and his name was spoken aloud. The shock and astonishment as he was dragged away and tossed into a royal army transport.

“Calion? What's wrong?” Cookie spoke gently, carefully touching a hand to Calion’s shoulder. Despite how gentle he was, Calion still jolted at the feel of his touch. “You look distant. Something on your mind, hon?” 

“No… Well, yes, but…” Calion peered over at Smoll with a certain ire in his scowl, then back to his tutor. “Nothing we can really talk about.” He muttered, doing his best to hide his words from the present guard. Though Smoll was one of the few guards he could trust to have a conversation with, he couldn’t risk anything getting back to Nikos.

“Yeah, I understand. This lockdown is getting to me, too. Nikos has already “interviewed” me three times this week.” Cookie squinted his fingers, throwing quotes around the normally unassuming word. 

“What?” Calion gasped lightly under his breath. “You think he suspects something? Or that you’re up to something?”

“Of course not. I’ve done nothing wrong.” A cocky smile formed on Cookie’s lips. It was the same kind of smile he had the day he’d given Calion his cloaker; however, it was more subtle. Less excited than it was that day.

“Yeah, but still-” Cookie gently touched a finger to the boy's lips. He quickly nodded to Smoll, who was still standing by the door, still monitoring their every move and possibly listening in on their quiet conversation, the best he could without seeming obvious about it. “Right. I wish we could talk without a guard breathing down our necks for once.”

“Maybe we can,” Cookie whispered back to the prince before making his way over to Smoll. He sauntered up to the guard, hips and tail swaying violently from side to side as he approached the man. Smoll’s eyes never left Cookie, only seemingly growing more worried the closer the snow white Ventrexia got to him. “Smoll, honey.” Cookie greeted him, hands to his hips, and a smile brimming.

“How can I help you, Cookie?” Smoll said, eyes trained forward and back stiffened to a professional degree.

“Could I ask a small favor?”

“I’m not allowed to grant favors at this time, Cookie, you know that.”

“Oh, but it would be so quick.”

“No can do,” Smoll replied coldly, his back seeming to go even stiffer with Cookie’s ever-shortening proximity toward him.

“Oh, come on.” Cookie leaned into him, his chest touching the guard's shoulder. “I see the way you look at me.”

“It’s sort of my job lately, Cookie. I'm here to ensure the prince’s safety. No matter what or who might stand in that path. I have to be on the lookout.”

Cookie held back a little giggle. “Oh, even before that. I know the kind of looks you’ve been giving me. You think I don’t notice, but I do. The kind of savage wild glint in your eye every time I pass you by. It’s feral, barbaric. You want to tear into me like a piece of meat, don’t you?” 

“What?” In an instant, Smoll’s hard stone demeanor broke down into shock. “I-I would never think of you like that. That would be… unprofessional of me.”

“Don’t worry. No one said I was offended.” Cookie leaned even further into the man, his tall frame pressed up to the sergeant’s slightly smaller one. “In fact, I think I like being looked at like a piece of meat. Something you can just tear into and rip apart.” By now, Smoll had shrunk, his rigid composer dismantling like a piece of old and rusted machinery. “How’s about this, you give the prince and me some alone time, and maybe later we can…” Cookie's voice fades into a whisper as he brings his lips closer to the sergeant's ear. An audible gulp echoed throughout the room as Cookie continued in the man’s ear. By now Smoll’s face had gone a bright red beneath his fur as his body fell into a slight tremble, and the more Cookie spoke, the worse the tremors seemed to get.

“Shoot Cooks.” Smoll gasped as Cookie came out of his ear and took a small step away. The guard was still flushed, his body still shaking slightly. A bout of disbelief had hit him hard, and for a moment it looked as if he’d forgotten where he was. His eyes darted around the room and over to Calion before resting on the tall Ventrexian beside him once again. “Okay- uhhh… Just a quick minute or two. Any longer than that and Nikos will have my head.”

“That's all we need,” Cookie assured him, and hesitantly, Smoll made his way out of the room. Once he was gone, Cookie turned his sights to the prince. He walked over to him, his pace without delay. Taking Calion by the shoulders as he reached him, Cookie walked him over to the bed. He sat him down and took a seat beside him.

Calion was a little confused. A brow raised high as he watched the door closely. That was the first time he’d been alone without the presence of a guard since his lockdown had begun. He had tried to convince the guards to give him some privacy before, though with no success. To see Cookie so easily persuade Smoll into leaving the room was shocking to say the least. It may have been for a short time, but it was a short time Calion would make the most of.

“Wait, what did you say to him?” 

“Oh, Calion. You’d have to be a bit older for me to traumatize you so.” Calion felt a hot blush light up his cheeks at the response. “But none of that now. Tell me how it went. What did you see, what did you experience?”

“Oh… right.” Calion shook his head, and the hotness in his face faded. “Cookie, it was amazing. There were so many people, and the buildings were so tall. It felt like I was on another world, almost.” Calion beamed as he explained that night to his tutor. The joy he had felt before had quickly revisited him as he retraced his steps through the city. “I found this market called Mewlo market. It was so cool. They had so many things there. So much food and clothes and everything.”

“Ah, Mewlo. A favorite of mine before I moved to the palace to teach you.”

“It’s so cool. There was a lot of Eastern-inspired art and statues there. It felt like being in the eastern regions.” He explained, heart racing and excitement hitting its peak. Cookie was equally as excited, but just as quickly as it came, it had gone. The look on his face that had come was odd; his lips pulled into a slight frown as his eyes arched in a worried manner.

“Calion, that's beautiful, but there must be more. You must have seen something or experienced something far more important than just marketplaces and wonderful architecture."

“Actually.” Calion paused, his mind drawing a quick blank. There was slight confusion with the words, but then a hint of pain in his chest. “When I was talking to one of the kids, he had mentioned how he and his parents were struggling with money problems.” At that mention, Cookie's face lit up again as a subtle smirk passed his lips. “Another said his dad said that it was the fault of the refugees, that nobody could work because of them. Cookie, I never realized it, but people are suffering out there. So many of them need help, food, money, and shelter. The refugees need protection from the more radical Ventrexians. People need to be able to afford to live, but my family doesn’t seem to care. They never talk about our world’s problems, and if they do, it’s never with me in the room. How am I expected to be king when they keep these kinds of things from me? Why don’t they care? I just don’t get it. Why are they so self-absorbed, Cookie?”

“Oh Calion.” The man cooed, softly running a hand through the boy's braided hair. “So you do understand… don’t you?” His words were hesitant, and his body stiff as if waiting for rejection. He peeked at Calion with an almost curious glare, just dying to know what the boy might say next. At first, Calion didn't answer, either missing interrupting the question or being outright confused by it for a moment. But obviously, he knew what Cookie was asking of him. Slowly, the boy shook his head, and the stiffness in Cookie’s form relinquished.

“Calion, you have more power than you know. You carry the means for change. For your family, for your people… It’s only a matter of time, and if you’re willing to do whatever it takes to accomplish that change.” Cookie’s smile evaporated again. “Are you… willing?”

Calion was still briefly. The words that had come from the man's mouth carried some spin-tingling weight to them. It felt like a momentous moment, even. Calion felt as if what he would say in response would determine the future of everything, everyone. Was he willing? To commit to change, to defy his family for the good of the people? Was he willing?

“I think so…” He answered with all the honesty in his heart, ready for whatever was to come with his future. 

Again, Cookie seemed so relieved with his answer. His eyes fluttered closed as his shoulders rusted off the stress that had kept them so tight. He smirked before opening his eyes and looking at Calion with the warmth of a star. 

“Have I ever told you about my parents?” He asked, and Calion shook his head. Cookie hadn’t mentioned much about them or anything about his past. If this were an invitation to learn, Calion would take it, no questions asked. “They were farmers in the eastern regions. They lived off the land along with the other families in a tiny little village in the mountains. We never wanted for much, never thought life had to be anything more than what it was. My village wasn't royalty, Calion. I wasn’t born into a great house and showered with wealth and the promises of glory. My place in society was decided by the crown before I was born, and so were a lot of Ventrexians on this world. Our society is cruel and unjust, Calion. You may not have understood that before, but you understand it now. You, unlike any other royal, understand the plight of the people, and you will be the only one who will be willing to do something for them, to free them from the chains of their oppressors. To free them from this caste. You’ll defy your destiny, and you’ll help others defy theirs. I just know you will… It’s only a matter of time.” Calion didn’t speak, didn’t move, only pondered what he was told. “Have I ever told you my name?” The man asked, and again, Calion shook his head as big pale eyes widened at the taller Ventrexian. “Karu… Karu…” The look on his face was apparent. A pained expression took form. It seemed bringing up the name caused him great sorrow, as if he were digging up the body of an old friend or family member. Calion couldn’t help but feel sadness for him as well as a shred of guilt. Guilt for having so much wealth and power, for being the prince of Ventrexia, for allowing his people to suffer… for being born.

“Alright, you two.” Smoll re-entered the room with a knock. Calion huffed, their brief privacy coming to an abrupt and unsatisfying end.”

“Right, of course.” Cookie smiled at Calion once more. “How’s about we call it a day?”

“Yeah… sure…” Calion nodded, his words clearly filled with disappointment.

“Okay.” Cookie stood, walking to the other side of the room. “And Calion.” He turned back to the prince. “Remember…” He said with a familiar odd glint in his eyes. Smoll held the door open for him, and they both stepped out, exchanging looks and smiles as they did. Were they seriously flirting with each other?

After his tutor had gone, Calion sighed. He replayed their conversation in his head, going over all of the words that were spoken, trying to preserve them before they were brushed to the side like old rags. He thought about what Cookie, or Karu, had said, about being willing to change things for the better. Could Calion actually go through with such a task, to change the entire nation for the better? Would there be a willingness to change, or are the people too far gone under the ideology of the great houses to care? He didn’t know for sure, but he had to try, for Karu, or Cookie, if not anyone else.

Calion stood afterward. He could feel his thoughts beginning to overwhelm him. He knew there was only one way to quell the rampant rumination. He needed to find his bell drum. To his relief, the instrument was still in his room, sequestered in the corner of his large walk-in closet. So much unnecessary space, he thought. Once he had retrieved it, he hauled the instrument back into his quarters and sat down at the center of his room, placing the saucer-shaped object down before him. 

He looked at it for a moment, observing the many bell mounds protruding from the silver instrument, and brought his hand to hover over one of them. Calion tapped his finger softly against the mound. A light chime resonated from the bell, filling the silence of his surroundings with a joyful little sound. He waited a moment after, letting the sound die down before tapping again. He did this for a while, tapping softly on the bell mound that had invoked a beautiful chime. Afterward, Calion would pop his fingers against a bell with a much lighter tone. He continued to hit the drum, periodically switching between the high-pitched bell and the medium one. Once he had gotten a feel for the rhythm he wanted, Calion would bring his other hand down on the drum, hitting a heavy finger against one of the lower bells, the only low tone he would utilize in his creation that afternoon. He continued, not letting up as he unleashed his feelings into sound. He tapped the high chime, hitting the medium and switching back to the high before ending with the low, and for a while, he would play that tune. He would let it fill his room, the air, his ears, his entire being. He closed his eyes after a short time, letting his mind carry him off to that unknown place he wanted so desperately to see. Calion wished to invoke the feeling of snow, of rain pouring heavily over a hidden forest. He let his mind run through snowy tundras and swing through mountainous trees. He wanted to invoke the beauty of nature, of all that Ventrexia had given him and his people. He wanted to invoke Karu, his name, his village, his family, his home, his being. He wanted to walk side by side with him into a new Ventrexia and his people. Then he stopped thinking. He stopped playing. The snow had stopped falling, the rain had stopped pouring, and the young prince was engulfed in darkness for a time. He opened his eyes, knowing he couldn’t hide from it forever. Just like that, Calion was back in his lavish cell.

-/-/-/-/-/-/

Nikos stepped into the long hall of the throne room, his head hung low and shame beseeching his every thought. The banners stood silent and unswaying. For each one that hung from the ceilings of the hall, a guard stood, eying Nikos with a venomous vitriol he had always received from many a royal who felt he didn’t belong in their world.

Nikos marched up to the thrones for which the lord and lady of his kingdom sat and bowed deeply before them. They bore down on him, unimpressed with his show of regret. He should have expected this. No matter how deep the bow, how painful the regret, nothing would satiate the anger they no doubt felt for him in that moment. To one end, his father-in-law stood, equally ashamed of the man groveling at the foot of the thorns. At least Nikos thought he should be ashamed.

“Nikos.” The voice of the king boomed throughout the throne room. Nikos wasn’t ashamed to admit it had rattled him to his core to hear. “You know why you were summoned at this time?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Has he spoken yet?”

Nikos tensed, knowing that there was no information he could give that would satisfy. Knowing that he couldn’t lie. “No… my lord.”

“Have you gathered any information at all on how this… incident could have occurred?” There was desperate hesitancy in his words, the unimpressed look on his face turning to hopeful naivety.

“... no, my lord…” The king sighed deeply, and Nikos could feel the exhaustion in his breath.

“Well, maybe you aren't searching hard enough. Maybe you don’t feel you have to.” The queen spoke, her voice without remorse. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to cover your own tracks.”

Nikos drew in a sharp breath. He was taken aback by his queen's words. The notion was ridiculous, yet he was turning up no information on how the prince could have escaped. 

“M-my queen, please. I would never allow such a thing. I’ve been hard at work uncovering the truth and have already amassed a few key suspects and narrowed down-”

“Nikos, we all saw the vods. I’ve been over it with the observation team time and time again. To me, it seems that you've intentionally let my son run off. I'm only curious as to why. I know you two are close, but I would have never imagined you would allow him to be hurt-”

“I would not!” Nikos stood, voice echoing throughout the hall, causing a few of the guards to jump halfway out of their boots. “I would never allow anything to happen to that child. The very thought that you would question my loyalty in such a manner pains me to no end. You have no right-”

“Enough!” The queen's voice exploded, rupturing Nikos’ resolve as his eyes widened in terror. He bowed again, nearly forgetting himself and his place before his lord and lady. “Lady Mewmew may allow you to treat her like a walking rug, but you will not take that kind of liberty before me!”

“I-I-I am sorry… please forgive me…” Nikos’ voice was quiet and shaky. He bowed deeper than before, but he knew no amount of apology could forgive his sudden outburst. 

“Please, brother.” Catomar stepped before the thrones, somewhat shielding Nikos from the Queen's furious glare. “You know Nikos would never allow any harm to befall the prince. The love he has for him is mightier than steel claws. You must know that this is not his fault.”

“I know…” The king sighed again as he sat up on his throne. “But we mustn't allow this mistake to go unpunished. I will not play favorites simply because he is family.” Catomar nodded and turned to Nikos, gesturing for him to rise. Nikos did so, walking beside his father with his head proudly held high. Though he would keep his composure in that moment, he knew the punishment wouldn’t be so kind. “Nikos. My son had escaped on your watch. As captain of the guard, I expect more vigilance. As a lord, I expect more competency. Though I know that you are not at fault, action still must be taken. We shall discuss the terms of your demotion at a later point. For now, continue your investigation. Dismissed.” Nikos shuttered. A demotion? Him? Who knew how far down the ladder he would be knocked? Knowing how much he messed up as captain of the royal guard, it would be significant. He bowed to his king and queen, nonetheless, and left the thorn room. His wife would kill him.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Nikos pushed open the doors to Calion’s room. He was expecting the boy to jump from the sudden intrusion, but the prince made no such move. He seemed lost in thought, his bell drum sitting slightly on the floor before him. His eyes glanced off into the distance, looking at nothing and everything all at once. Nikos wasn’t even sure if the prince knew he was here.

“Ahem!” Nikos cleared his throat sharply, finally catching Calion’s attention. “Ready to talk.” Knowing the answer he'd get, Nikos would try nonetheless. He would keep trying until the boy became willing, even if that was never a possibility. 

“Hm.” Calion huffed, turning his head away from Nikos like the stubborn little prince he was.

He felt a surge of rage boiling in him, but he knew better not to release it on his gullible cousin. “So be it,” Nikos growled, turning to leave. Before he reached the door, however, he stopped. His nose twitched as he sniffed the air, once, twice, three times, and shuddered ever so slightly. “Has… someone been here?”

“Uhh… your jack boot guards.”

“Don’t get smart. Besides smoll.”

“Cookie… why?” 

“Hmmm… No reason.” Nikos said before leaving the room. That was strange. He never noticed before, but that was the first time he ever smelled that scent. It was odd, sweet, and spicy with a hint of chicanery and skullduggery. He didn’t like it. It made his fur stand on end.           

Chapter Text

Calion sat on a tiny stool at the center of his room, his back straightened, and his vision enveloped in darkness. His ears were filled with the sound of the screeching of metallic strings from an instrument a little larger than himself. This was the only release he had during his time under the watchful eye of the king. Music was Calion’s everything, his sole reason for living, the thing he was sure he was put on Ventrexia to create, and he had been creating oh, so much of it as of late. 

With what little freedom he had, it was the only thing that brought him happiness during those trying times. It kept him active, which in turn kept him sane. It was that. The music, the creation of sound that filled his heart and soul. Not his father's watchful eye, not his mother's rude insinuations. Not Catomar, not Nikos, not the guards or servants or anyone. It was his music that kept everything going in his mind and body, and he needed it now more than ever. He played for himself, for the love of making something, anything, until he stops and he’s hit with blockage.

Calion opened his eyes, something he seldom wanted to do. In darkness, he was safe, he was free. Having to confront his surroundings took all of that control away and planted him back in the reality that stood before him: four walls, admirable furnishings, and an ever-watchful guard to go with it all. Now, however, he had no choice. He had forgotten the next note on a song he’d been practicing for the past few days, or was it weeks? He wasn’t so sure by this point.

As he goes over the song in his head, his hand gripped around the bow that he’d long since stopped pulling along the strings of his tall instrument, he sees the guard’s eyes draw in on him from the door. The man’s expression was deadpan, and his eyes just as cold as he watched the boy from a short distance. The guards always got so much more intense when Calion went completely silent, as if they were ready for him to make a move. But what move could he make? Would he slip away somehow, managing to crawl through the vents? Or jump out the window, possibly breaking his leg in the process. Maybe he would use his instruments, smash them upside the guard's head, and make a run for it. Or perhaps they thought he would vanish into thin air. It was impossible to tell what the guards were thinking, but Calion was sure one of those scenarios had crossed more than a few minds.

Calion squinted at the guard staring at him, unimpressed, as he continued to play. With his bow, he put more pressure on the metallic strings, making the instrument screech louder than it had before, all the while watching the guard watching him. He wanted to let the man know that he knew what he was thinking, even if Calion had no idea what was going through his mind. The guard slowly tore his eyes away from the prince and focused forward again.

Hopefully, the prince had gotten the point across. He wasn’t going anywhere, although he wished he could. His quarters were starting to drive him insane. Calion only hoped his cousins were alright. If they were found out, he only hoped the punishment wasn’t as intense as his own. Whiskleena could possibly hold her own, but Calion couldn’t help but worry for Whiskken. The poor boy was a nervous wreck. He never liked going along with any of Calion’s schemes, never liked being dragged into trouble. He never even liked the notion of trouble, but here they were now. He wished he could reach out to know for sure. Has word spread? Were they being punished at that very moment, or did it already happen days ago? 

Come to think of it, how much of his family knew about this incident to begin with? Does the whole kingdom know, or was his father doing his best to keep Calion’s escape under solid wraps? His family was big, spread across the whole of Ventrexia and beyond. Someone was bound to know. A guard must have slipped up at some point and passed the information on to one of the great houses if his father hadn’t already reached out himself.

Calion couldn’t hold the sigh that had been building within him. What a mass he had created. For himself and his family… and Purrice. To think all of it could be circumvented with just a few words, a simple omission. If he were to just tell them that Cookie helped him, he’d be out of this trouble in an instant, but he couldn’t do that. He could never betray Cookie, not even to save himself. The man was nothing but kind to him, treating him not as a prince but as a person with hopes and dreams and ambitions that weren't tied to the throne. Calion wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he came forward. He’d keep their secret, even if it meant he had to stay locked up in his room for the rest of his life. And then a knock came at the door.

The guard, moving the icy shell he called a body, opened the door as Kedi stepped into his quarters. “Calion.” The large Ventrexian, holding a smile that was ill befitting of the situation, spoke. “Come. Your mother wishes to have a word.”

“Mother?” Calion looked at him, fear striking his heart as well as his expression. “Why?”

“Well, I suppose to discuss your little… incident. Come now. We shouldn’t keep her waiting, should we?” Calion, as hesitant as he felt, agreed and stood. His mother could be an impatient woman at times and downright scary at others. He wouldn’t like what she had to say to him, but he wouldn’t ignore her summons.

Calion was led through the halls of the palace, every guard he and Kedi passed watching him like deadeye hawks. There seemed to be more guards than usual, all standing against the walls of the corridor leading from his room to one of the palace's many exits. Were they really taking his escape so seriously? Is what he did so bad that it called for the doubling of guards, all stood outside his room door and beyond? Ridiculous, he thought, and he just knew Nikos was behind this little show of force. He wouldn’t let it crack him. Nikos could play whatever mind game he wanted, but Calion wouldn’t let any of it get to him.

The prince was taken out of a back exit, Kedi staying close by him as they passed through the hedge mazes leading to the outer gardens. The outer gardens were beautiful, Calion would admit. It was his mother's favorite place to read, and sometimes it was Calion's favorite place to make music among the small ponds, greenhouses, and viny arched gateways. 

It held the serenity of multiple worlds in its proximity. There were many beautiful flowers and plants all planted side by side to form a collage of exotic wonder. From the most popular flowers of Ventrexia to some earth beauties, they all lived in perfect coexistence.

“Over there.” Kedi guided the prince to an open space among the brush. His mother sat, or more so was lying, on a stone bed with soft cushioning in front of a large fountain, not too dissimilar to the one in their front yard. As Calion could have guessed, she was reading a book, not on a Padd or any other comms device, but a book, most likely taken from the palace’s massive library. She was always so high-minded of herself in that way, even for a royal. Always felt she was more sophisticated than others, so she must act in accordance. Maybe she was, but Calion never really liked it.

Calion dragged himself over to her reluctantly and stood for minutes as she read. She paid him no mind until she dropped the book and raised a brow to the prince. Calion raised a brow back, trying to figure out what she was playing at until she spoke, or rather signed to him. “Ahem.”

“Oh.” Calion jolted, nearly forgetting that he had to be the one to greet his mother first. “Mother.” He bowed his head halfheartedly to her. “You wanted to speak with me?”

“Yes, Calion. I'm sure you know why you’re here.”

“I could guess.” He muttered, the matter being so obvious. “I guess you want me to tell you who helped me, huh?”

“Hmmm…” The queen hummed, her eyes buried back in the book she’d been reading before Calion had arrived. “I more so wanted to know why you did it, child. The details don’t matter much to me. Nikos claims he is investigating, but personally, I don’t trust him as far as I can toss him at this point.”

“Is that even far?”

The queen huffed. “It’s far enough.” She said, making herself more comfortable on her cushioned stone seat. “Now tell me, son. Why go through so much trouble just to be in so much trouble? Surely you aren't so bored as to defy your father's or mine wishes for your safety.

Calion scoffed at his mother, something he would never think to do in his right mind. But he wasn’t in his right mind. He’d been stuck in his room for Ventrexia knows how long. Of course, he was bound to be a little vexed with anyone who stood in his way.

“Well, boredom can drive people to do some crazy things, Mother. My whole life has revolved around this palace and what you and Father have wanted for me, but what of what I wanted for myself? My wants, needs, and desires are to experience the world, her people. I have not once felt a lack of safety in my life, mother, because I was and still am not allowed to. So excuse me for wanting to live a little, to get away from this… place…” Silence followed his words. The queen’s eyes traced along the pages of her book before limply dropping it away from her face once again and looking at her son. The look she gave him was blank, almost unreadable. He may have made a mistake speaking out of turn, but he couldn’t help himself.

“You have grown quite mature at your age, haven't you? A bit too mature for your one good, I’d say.” She said as Calion looked away from her. He could have guessed that would be her response after pouring his heart out. “Though I understand your plight, child.” He looked back at her, a wave of surprise hitting him swiftly. “We’ve kept you so sheltered from the world for so long. It is no surprise you would have gone off and done what you have. I remember being your age. I felt I knew better than my elders. I felt I was so much more than they, felt I knew everything about everything. Maybe you get it from me. You certainly did not inherit this behavior from your father.” 

“Oh… I didn’t know that.”

“Yes, well, I suppose we never really had a true heart-to-heart with one another.” She said, her face softening into a more understandable emotion. “I know I may seem distant at times, Calion, and for that I am sorry. I never meant to make you feel unloved if that is the case. I never meant to come off as a cold-hearted witch. If I have, I apologize. I apologize for making you think you had to run away from us to find some meaning in life… in all of this. Being the prince of your people cannot be an easy task. I should have recognized the stress you must have been in, that you must be in at this moment.”

“Mom, no…” Calion began breathlessly, the words and remorse of his mother taking him off guard. “I may have acted drastically. On impulse… Maybe I should have given my actions more thought. I'm sorry for making you or anyone else worry. I'm sorry.” Calion just barely managed past a shallow breath. Before, with all the guards and the harsh treatment, Calion couldn't care less about what anyone thought of him. The decision he made that night was his to make, and the consequences didn’t matter for the most part. Until now. Until hearing his mother speak. The loving warmth in her tone and the regret in her eyes. That's when he felt it. That's when he felt he had made a mistake.

His queen, his mother Callisto, smiled. It was kinder than usual and made her look more beautiful than she already was. She nodded to him and went back to reading the book she held. “Calion, dear. Know that you are loved, no matter what you may think or how others treat you. We all love you. We just show it in our own ways.” She said, the guilt in Calion’s chest growing more painful. “Now, your father wishes to see you. We shan't keep him waiting, shall we?”

“No, mother. Of course not.” Calion spoke softly, the tightness in his chest beginning to escalate at the mention of his father. He was expecting his mother to be angrier with him, but she wasn’t. She was the opposite of everything he thought he knew about her. How should he expect his father to appear?

/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Calion stepped into the throne room, still escorted by Kedi and his platoon of guards. The worry he felt in the gardens had yet to leave him. If anything, the anxiety had only gotten worse with each step he took over the lush carpets leading up to his father's seat. Why should he be so nervous? His father was not a man known for his anger. He was kind and gentle. A man renowned for his heroic fervor and warm emotion. Calion shouldn’t be afraid, but as he stands before the throne, as his father bore down on him with a palpable frown over his whiskers, Calion could feel his resolve fall further down a hole of despair.

“Calion.” The king spoke. His voice wasn’t the usual kindhearted sound Calion had come to expect. This was something else, something more angry than normal. “Step forward, Calion.” He reached out, gesturing the boy forward. Hesitantly, nervously, Calion obliged. He stepped closer to the throne, feet dragging his body against its will along the red carpet. “Do you know why you are here?”

“I think so.”

“Do you or do you not?” Calion stiffened at the crackle of his father's thundering voice. Now that he was close enough to make out the features on his face, Calion could see that the man was not pleased. Worse than that, even.

“T-to discusses my recent incident… I believe..." He muttered those last words, not too sure of himself or anything at that moment.

“Yes, Calion.” The king said, almost hissed out the boy's name. “What in the world were you thinking? To defy my wishes, to run off without supervision. You could have been hurt, you could have been killed, and I wouldn’t have known.”

“But I wasn’t,” Calion spoke, automatically and out of turn. His eyes widened with an apparent surprise at his own actions then. “I wasn't, see.” The young prince presented himself, body and all, to his father and the guards surrounding them. “The hairs on my royal locks are untouched, my fur is still attached to my bones. Father, I'm fine and safe. You have to understand why I needed to do this.”

“Have you now?” He sounded unconvinced, unwilling to give the boy's testimony any further heed. “Did you also have to worry your mother? Did you have to trouble the help? The guard? Did you feel so impulsive that you needed to put your cousin’s reputation in jeopardy?”

“No, I- I mean I didn’t mean to-”

“Whether you meant to or not, it is done.”

“What?” The cold chill in his veins ran even colder. “What happened to Nikos? What did you do?”

“Never you mind that. We are here today for matters that concern you. You jeopardized your own safety. You went against my word, the king's word.”

“So why does the concern of my safety have to involve keeping me locked up? Well, I’ve been out there, and there is nothing to fear. If anything, there’s more to mourn on this pitiful planet. I think you kept me here because you were afraid I’d see what things were really like. Not in the opulent neighborhoods but in the real Ventrexia, the actual city.”

“What?” His father raised a curious brow, his tone crowded in bewilderment.

“Father, the people are suffering out there. They deserve way more than what we have. They need help, and we don’t seem to be giving it to them. I just don’t understand why we aren't doing more to help them. If I'm the prince, shouldn’t I be out there, assuring them that things will be okay? Doesn’t the nation have enough money to spare to support its people?” 

“Calion, that is a much too complicated conversation.” 

“Then make it less complicated.” Calion raised his voice. He was sick of people being so vague with him, running him around in circles, but expecting him to excel as a flawless prince.

“Calion, the plight of the people is mine and is of no concern to a child.”

“Oh, Ventrexia, am I a child or the future king? You people can’t seem to make up your minds.”

“Calion.”

“You can sit on the throne and ignore your people all you want, but you won't be up there forever.” He spoke before he thought of what he was saying. The room erupted into whispers. The guards that stood idly by, ever watchful of the king, had begun to converse with one another. 

"What has gotten into him?”

“Such disrespect for his father.”

“How unbecoming.”

“So much defiance, why?” They all muttered beneath their breaths, dumbfounded by their precious little prince and his uncouth behavior. He didn’t care what they whispered to each other, didn’t care what they thought. It didn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter once he was king. 

“Enough!” Lionidas roared, sending a shock wave of silence in his wake. “I will not argue this with you. You have no idea the fragility of this nation. You’ve no idea what must be done to maintain order in these trying times. You think yourself so wise, but I tell you now, Calion. Do not mistake your education for wisdom. Kedi, take him.”

“What, no, you’re not going to send me off like this! I demand to be here. I demand to be heard! I have a right to this kingdom just as much as you, yet you treat me like I don't!" Calion yelled, the sound coming out as a sort of screech as he stopped his feet to the ground in outrage.

“Kedi.” The king spoke again, gesturing at the guard.

“Alright, Calion, settle down.” Kedi quickly moved toward the boy and put a firm hand on his shoulder. “What has gotten into you?”

“But it’s not fair, it’s not-” Calion turned to look up at the man, ready to argue on his own behalf, but stopped. He was becoming too emotional; he recognized that. He should have known this would happen. In his father’s eyes, he was still a child. His words meant nothing to the man. “Fine.” Calion shook off Kedi's hand and made for the exit with Kedi hot on his trail. He wouldn’t argue any further. It wouldn’t matter anyway. All he wanted was to be taken back to his room. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/

Whiskken pulled at his ears, rubbing the tips to soothe his aching mind. His sister lay on her bed at one end of the room, snapping pictures with her omni comms device, possibly to upload them to her social media. They had been confined to their quarters that day with nothing much to do besides worry for their cousin's sake. At least that’s what Whiskken had been doing. Since the night they left the scooter in the woods near the grand palace, they had yet to hear a word or peep from Calion. 

“W-what if something happened to him?”

“Dear brother, nothing has happened to him,” Whiskleena replied quickly, snapping another picture of herself.

“H-how do you know? He hasn’t reached out in days. What if he was hurt?”

“Dear brother, he is not hurt. As for why he hasn’t reached out, just think about it. Poor cousin has been cooped up in that old palace for Ventrexia knows how long. He is most likely so overwhelmed with the excitement and emotion of seeing the outside world that he has to take some time to cope with the feeling.” She reassured her brother or tried too at least. For him, however, no amount of reassurance could help. How could he be calm when his cousin could be hurt or dead or worse?

“What if he got caught? What if he's in trouble? Do you think they know we were involved? I don’t want to get in trouble, sister.” He began to whine, his body growing shakier as his thoughts began to overwhelm him. “What if father finds out? H-he’ll probably give us a whooping of a lifetime. Or maybe he’ll send us off to prison. What if he sends us to fight in the war?” He cried. He never wanted this. He didn’t want to be in trouble. He never liked the harebrained schemes of his cousin or the willingness of his sister to go along with them, but he also never liked disappointing his family. Maybe that's why he was always pressured into following her, no matter what trouble might arise in the process. 

“Dear brother, please calm yourself. We are not in any trouble because Father doesn’t know. If he did, don't you think he might have said something by now, hmmm?” She… had a point. It’s been days, but they were still free to roam around like nothing had occurred. “Now enough of this talk of trouble and on to something more fun. The brethren dance is fast approaching. Do you know who you’re dancing with first?” 

“Oh, right.” Whiskken stopped rubbing at his ears. The topic of the upcoming holiday eased his mind, if only a bit. “I-I was thinking of dancing with Calion first.”

“Dear brother, don't be ridiculous. I’m dancing with Calion first. You can have him afterwards.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” He apologized. He never meant to step on his sister's toes for any reason, even if accidentally. She was a bit of a vainglorious girl; whatever she wanted, she got. Some might call her rude or provoking in her attitude, but even past her need to be the center of attention, she was his sister, and he loved her no matter what.

“Whiskken! Whiskleena!” A shout came from the other side of their room door, and a moment after that, it flew open with a violent gust. Their father had entered, clearly not in a good mood. “Tell me why Calion was found in the city alone with a scooter registered in our name?” The two kids perked up, and soon Whiskken was back to rubbing at his ears.

“Oh, dear father, we’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Do you think me so dense, girl? Has your mother really done such a poor job raising you that you would think it natural to lie to my face?”

“Dear father, I am no liar." She smirked, so assured of herself. Whiskken, on the other hand, felt like he was dying on the inside. His guts turned into a scramble of worry and guilt. His father must have noticed, because he instantly turned and began to question the boy.

“Whiskken, tell me. Is she truthful?”

“No, father, you were talking to me, not dear brother.”

“Whiskken, speak.”

“Whiskken, we’ve done nothing wrong.” The boy’s eyes darted between his sister and father. He pulled harder at his ears, His face going hot as he was torn between telling the truth and covering for his sister and cousin.

“Whiskken.” His father spat his name again.

“Whiskken.” So had his sister. Over and over again, back and forth. He felt like he was being pulled apart by hungry beasts. He began to breathe heavily, his heart beating so fast it couldn’t keep up with the blood pumping to his head. The pressure was so great, he had no choice.

“It was!” He cried. “It was us! We did it! We gave Calion the scooter! We helped him shimmy from the rooftops to spy on the luncheon! We helped him steal the cookies and cakes the day eldest sister was wed! We were the reason for Uncle Meowcarron’s sickness that day! We damaged the rugs in your study! We took Uncle Lionidas' crown that one time to pose for photos with it! Please don’t send us to prison, father, please!” Whiskken cried, letting it all out as he begged at his father’s feet. He was even admitting to things they didn’t do, anything to ease their father’s wrath.

“I… ugh!” Their father growled in disgust at the omission. “You little rats. Your allowances are hereby cut in half.”

“What?” Whiskleena jumped up and out of bed. “Half? Father, what am I expected to do with just five thousand Trexims a week?”

“Cut in half!” He yelled again before leaving the room and slamming the door shut.

“Wha… half?” Whiskleena repeated to herself. The disbelief of their punishment fell over her expression like droplets of rain. She looked to her brother then, a near hiss leaving her mouth. “Whiskken.”

“I’m sorry, sister.”    

Chapter Text

“Please stop moving, my lord.”

“I’m not moving.” Calion groaned, fidgeting against the woman’s wishes and to her annoyance as well.

“Please, my lord, if I do not have you ready within the hour, your mother will be very displeased.”

“Then can’t we just skip today. I’m sure if I tell my mother that I don’t wish to participate, she’ll understand.” A sharp gasp came from beside him, a sound of undiluted shock and horror as if what he said was so appalling it required such a reaction.

“My lord no.” The woman, his own personal tailor, said as she drove a needle into the bottom of his right pant leg. “The brethren dance is important. Too important for a prince to miss out. This is the legacy of your people, my lord. The reason why Ventrexia is what she is today.” The woman gushed as she spun Calion to the side. 

Calion scoffed beneath his breath. The brethren dance had come, and sooner than Calion had been hoping for. It was a holiday that commemorated the unification of Ventrexia. A day to celebrate what Meowmar the Great had created and what he had left behind for future generations. His tailor wasn’t wrong when she said it was an important day. Still, Calion didn’t see it that way. He thought it was dumb, all of it. Ventrexia was dumb, Ventriexans were dumb, this whole performative show of pride was dumb. The holiday didn’t deserve to be celebrated, in his opinion; it deserved to be lambasted for what it represented. Cookie always said that it was built on the bloodshed and suffering of others by a man who only knew war and death. Nowadays, they knew him as Mewomar the great unifier, but back then, and still echoed through some groups in the current century, he was Meowmar the vile beast. Meowmar the wicked. Meowmar the dread Oman, Meowmar the blood-soaked bastard. Meowmar the conqueror. Meowmar, the death weaver, Meowmar the butcher, and most importantly, he was family. That's what made Calion sick the most.

“My lord, please stop moving.” The woman repeated, tugging roughly at the needled string caught in Calion’s pants.

“I'm not moving.” Calion sneered in frustration. He was as still as he could be, standing in one spot for close to two hours now. She couldn’t blame him for getting antsy. It wasn’t his fault; his mother and father wanted him to wear a brand-new outfit instead of throwing on one of the many suits he already had in his wardrobe. They said they wanted him to look nice for the occasion, but this was the first time he had ever had to get something hand-tailored just hours before that actual ceremony. It was weird. Calion thought maybe they were trying to overcompensate for something, draw attention away from something. Calion could guess what that was. He couldn’t believe he was still suffering for his little outing. If Nikos’ persistent questioning wasn’t enough, then the guards watching him at all hours, even while taking a bath, was overkill. “Ughh!” Calion sighed loudly. “Do I really have to go?”

“My lord, of course.” The woman said without faltering, getting up from her knees to adjust Calion’s top. “This is a much too important event. Your family has been celebrating the dance since the founding of the first great house. Don’t you think it would be rude to stay in your room for something that goes back generations?”

“Sure, I guess, but… I’m just so tired. I’ve had a rough past 2 weeks. My heart just isn't in it this year.” He said, unsure if his heart was ever completely into the holiday.

“Oh my lord.” She said, draping a long cloak over Calion’s shoulders. “I know you might be feeling a little down. With recent events, I'm sure you must be drained. But this is your family’s day. This is your day. Simply bear it with a smile, teeth and all if you must.” She smoothed her hands over his shoulders, patting down the cloak. “It’s only for one afternoon, and then you can forget about it until next year.”

“Right…” He doubtfully rolled his eyes. That was the most obvious solution. Don’t mind all the dancing, the idle chatter, and catching up with family. Just bear through the evening and be done with it. But what of the next time? And the next time, and the next time, and the time after that? Was Calion meant to celebrate this thing his family had built forever? What of the people who didn’t celebrate? What of the ones who never wanted to be united under one family in the first place? Did their culture not matter? Has anyone considered the fragments of history from other regions that were scattered due to Meowmar’s actions?

“Okey me lord… we are just about done…” The tailor hummed, giving Calion a thorough once-over. “Just one more thing… there.” She set an item down on the prince’s head, squeezing the cold, metal thing around his skull before taking a step back to observe him. “Behold.” She gestured to a mirror, and Calion, somewhat reluctantly, stepped toward it. 

Eyes fell upon his form as a hot flash hit his face. He tilted his head curiously at the reflection of himself. The tunic he was practically sewn into was a shade of lavender with gold trimmings. The thing was so long it nearly reached his feet. It looked like more of a dress than anything. Calion even questioned the need for pants at that point. On his back was a cloak of the same color that was far too long for how short he was. Even someone as tall as Cookie would be dragging the tail of the accessory along the floor as he walked. And of course, the circlet that sat atop his head. It was a tight, ill-fitting piece of golden jewelry with a purple jewel at its center. In fact, the whole outfit felt uncomfortable in one way or another. The tunic was too itchy around his neck, the cloak dragged behind him like a long sheet, and the circlet was going a bit too overboard with the luxurious presentation. He looked ridiculous. No doubt the rest of his family would be showing up in their best modern suits, poofy gowns, and dresses, and there he was looking like a noble from the Middle Ages. Why did he have to be the most flashy one? Why did he have to stand out like a jewel in the rough on tonight of all nights? It was like the older he got, the more his parents came to resent him. That's how he felt anyway. 

“So.” The woman spoke with a proud smile. “What do we think?” Calion gazed upon himself, from head to toe; the disgust he felt for the visage in the mirror was unrelenting.

“It’s good. Thank you.” He lied. Had he his own choice, he would have gone for something more casual, but by now, he just wanted to get this night over with.  

“Ah, excellent.” She clapped her hands together with the excitement of a young child. “I will be taking my leave, my lord. Please enjoy your evening.” She bowed, stepping out of the room with her purpose fulfilled. Calion let out an exhausted breath. He wished he could have a good evening, wished he liked any of this, but he didn’t, and he knew his evening would be far from pleasant.

After giving himself one last lookover, Calion stepped toward his door, shaking his head with disapproval as he did. He didn’t really like his outfit, but at least it warranted some privacy. He was surprised that his designated guards for that evening had chosen to wait outside his room while he was being prepared. Something about royals preparing in privacy so as not to spoil the surprise of their festival wardrobe. Calion had to admit that that was about the only tradition Calion appreciated that night. He reached for the knob of the door, gently opening it, but stopped shortly before stepping out once he heard the low voices of his guards.

“Did you hear about Nikos?” The invoking of his cousin's name was enough to make Calion’s hair stand on end. A sudden surge of curiosity had taken him by surprise. The guards weren't aware of him, and he would use that opportunity. Calion stuck close to the door, leaving it ajar without making it so obvious that it was open.

“What about him?” The other one scoffed, seemingly disguised by the mere notion of Nikos.

“There's talk of demotion.”

“Really?” The first guard hummed as the other burst out into a chuckle. “Good for the hillbilly bumkin bastard. Someone like him should never have gotten as far as he did in our world. To think he was able to court Lady Cordell.” Calion froze, his mind drawing a blank. Were they demoting Nikos, all for a simple mistake, something that was completely out of his control, and to hear these guards undermine and demean him for it? These men, who were bred and brought up in the royal army, acting in such a boorish manner, irritated him for some reason. Calion continued to listen in.

“Man, I hear you. A woman like that deserves more than some farm boy from the ass end of nowhere.” The first guard let out a slimy, sleazy wheeze ill befitting of a guard of his rank. “Ventrexia, the meat on her bones. I could work her all night long. She wouldn’t even remember the concept of standing once I’m done.”

“And that bumpkin got to her.” The second guard, as charming as always, sneered venomously at the sheer thought of his cousin's relationship. “She disgraces her bloodline, muddying it with that bastard's seed… ugh.” He growled, talking about his family as if they weren't even Ventrexian by that point. Calion could feel his blood boiling beneath his fur as he listened to these animals speak. “I tell you, if I ever get the chance, I'll show her what a real Ventrexian can do. A girl like that deserves real love making, not some roughneck tumble in the hay.” A laugh echoed from each of them. Calion let a growl sit in his throat. He’d heard enough of these excuses speak. He swung open his door and stepped out of his room, presenting himself as tall as his body would allow.

“My lord.”

“My lord.” The two guards saluted, startled by Calion’s sudden appearance.

“What were you two talking about out here?” He asked, feigning some ignorance of the pair's abhorrent conversation.

“Nothing, my lord, just messing about with one another.”

“Messing about, hmmm?” Calion looked at each man with a tight, wary squint. “It sounded more like you were speaking ill of royals to me.” The two men froze, their bodies going as stiff as stone pillars.

“M-my lord, we would never-”

“Quite. There's no sense in lying. I find that highly insulting.” He said, his scolding frown pulled so far down his face it could have branded the two guards that stood trembling before him. “The next time you refer to my cousin Nikos as a bumpkin or speak of my cousin Cordell as if she were some piece of meat, I’ll have you both shipped off to the worst hellhole on the frontlines I can find. Do I make myself clear?” An audible gulp followed his command.

“Ye-yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. And by the way.” Calion looked to the second guard, the “real Ventrexian,” unimpressed with what he saw. “Cousin Cordell has much better taste. Maybe you can settle for a rat instead? I think that would suit you. Now take me to my parents.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir.” They saluted again as they trailed behind Calion with their heads low. He had to admit the rush he got from putting those men in their places felt really good.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Calion sighed as he stood surrounded by guards. The ballroom was full that evening, bustling with family from all over the kingdom. Nobles from every echelon, from the bottom rung to the very top, had been celebrating, catching up with one another, and of course dancing. That was what the brethren dance was all about after all. It was to symbolize peace among friends, family, and even one's enemies. The dancing portion of the celebration was to pay homage to the dancing that took place after the unification. Only Calion could imagine that the way they danced back then wasn’t as elegant or refined as years of celebration had fine-tuned it into. 

Of course, it was all nice. The ballroom was lit in a warm, golden hue that emitted from crystal chandeliers that hung overhead. Large curtains swayed in an unfelt breeze that crept in from slightly opened windows, and, as was usual, drinks were passed around. Some family members were more sauced than others, and it was still so early in the night.

“Calion.” A familiar voice, followed by two identical twins, found the prince with his detachment of guards huddled around him. 

“Whiskleena, Whiskken!” He smiled, passing the guards who followed him closely. He pulled them both into a tight hug, happy to see that they were okay. They both looked amazing to him. Whiskleena was dressed in a red gown while her brother wore a black tux with knee-high socks to compensate for his knee-length dress pants. “Man, I'm glad to see you guys.” He said as his gaze fell upon Whiskken and his sore eyes. It looked like he’d been crying nonstop for days.

“Oh dear Calion, you look dashing this evening. So noble.” 

“Thanks, Whiskleena.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. He still didn’t like the outfit too much, but getting a compliment from one of his favorite cousins made him feel just a little bit better about it. “I’m guessing word got around, huh?”

“Unfortunately,” Whiskleena answered, disheartened. “Would you believe father had the nerve to cut our allowances in half? My allowance. Can you even believe that, dear cousin?”

Calion tilted his head, bewildered. Was that all they got for helping him? No confinement, no guards watching them twenty-four seven? Just that their allowance was cut in half. “Oh… sorry to hear…” He muttered, a little shroud of jealousy forming over him before a simple thought drove the feeling away. “Hey, guys. Do you want to share a dance?”

“Oh Calion, I would love to, but…” Whiskleena looked at her brother. “All three of us? It’s not the best look.”

“Of course. Forget what it looks like.”

“R-really?” Whiskken perked up, seemingly for the first time that night. “Y-yes… that is if sister d-doesn’t mind.” He spoke shakily, giving his sister the widest eyes either her or Calion had seen him give.

“I suppose not.” She sighed, disappointment clear in her tone.

“Good.” Calion took the twins by their hands and began to walk with them. At the same time, a cadre of footsteps would follow. He turned his head to see six or so guards on his tail. He had nearly forgotten about his baby sisters that evening. “Guys, can I get some privacy this evening. It is the brethren dance after all.” The guards look at one another, not sure what to say or do, before one pushes out in front of the others and takes the lead. Luckily for Calion, it was one of the few guards he liked.

“Don’t stray too far, my prince.” Calion nodded and dragged his cousins onto the dancefloor.

He held both of them in either hand, slow dancing to a fine tune orchestrated by live music, only the best money could buy. They had gotten a few looks from the other guests in the ballroom. Usually, during the brethren dance, one would reserve a dance with one person at a time. To dance with multiple people at once could be seen as rude or selfish, but Calion didn’t care. It wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong by dancing with his cousins; besides, he knew the history of the dance better than anyone. Back then, there was no coordination or planning. That was all modern nonsense. Back then, you would just dance, and it didn’t matter how many people were there dancing along with you.

“Ok, guys,” Calion started in a low tone as he swung his cousins around on the dance floor. “So your dad knows about my little… Incident… how many more of the family know?” 

“Hmmm…” Whiskleean took a moment to ponder the question. “Well-”

“Everyone,” Whiskken answered in a panicked whisper as his grip tightened around Calion’s hand. “Cousin, I-it’s bad. The whole family has been talking.”

“The whole family? Even-”

“Yes.” They both answered.

“And-”

“Yes,” they answered again.

Calion looked around at the other guests, his family. Of course, as suspected, they had been whispering and throwing tiny glimpses his way. “Oh, great.” Calion threw his head back, a sigh erupting from deep within his chest. “That's just what I need, for people to be talking behind my back. This is the worst.”

“Oh, we’re truly sorry, dear cousin. If there is any way we can do to make things better.”

“No. There's not much either of you can do. I just have to bear with it, I suppose. Still, it’s not fair. All I wanted to do was get out of the palace for once. I wanted to be treated like a normal kid, and now I have to deal with all of this nonsense. It’s dumb."

“T-to be fair. I did say it was a bad idea.” Whiskken said, and Calion offered him an unimpressed pout that caused the nervous boy to shut up.

“The point is, it’s ridiculous. Everyone is being ridiculous. My parents, Catomar, Nikos. Where is Nikos?” Calion looked around the ballroom. It had come to his attention that he had not once seen his cousin all evening. He hadn't given his absence too much thought until the question arose, and now he was beginning to worry. 

“Evening Calion. Someone’s having the time of their life, huh?” Kedi piped as he approached Calion with a woman beside him. Calion’s heart panged slightly at the sight of her. She was familiar to him, of course. The wife of his cousin should be.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m having the time of my life.” Calion scoffed, still holding the twins by their hands and dancing slowly.

“I see. You remember Cordell. Surely you must.”

“O-of course…” He muttered, unable to face his lady cousin with any dignity.

“Oh, Calion. You’re growing so big.” Despite most likely knowing what he had done and being the cause of her husband's punishment, she still spoke to him warmly. Maybe it was because he was the prince, but Calion had encountered more than his share of family members who had taken a colder approach with him that evening. “You’re becoming quite the man, aren't you?”

“Am I?” He chuckled skeptically. “It doesn’t really feel like it. Especially as of late.”

“Yes, your little… incident. I know you must be feeling an overwhelming sense of pressure, but we all make mistakes.”

“Even mistakes that would harm your own family? My mistake really got Nikos in serious trouble.”

Cordell sighed, though it wasn’t out of disappointment, at least in him. “Believe me, Nikos is strong. Not much can rattle that man. He’ll get through this like he always has. I would ask you to be more forthcoming in his investigation, but I will not out of respect for your autonomy.” A soft smile pulled along her lips as she gazed down at him. “May I have this next dance with my prince cousin?” She reached out her hand, patiently waiting for him to take it.

“Um… of course, cousin.” He accepted, and the pair were on the dancefloor with one another. Despite his nerves around his lady cousin, Calion felt comfortable in her gaze. He felt safe. She had the same eyes as her brother Avocato, gentle and protective. That whole side of the family had those eyes, and maybe that's why Calion felt so at ease with them. “Honestly, I thought you’d be more angry with me.”

“Me?” She giggled past closed lips as she swept Calion away from the twins. “Admittedly, I was peeved at first, but you are just a child, a child without much experience with the world outside of this. I think in a way I understand why you did what you did and why you’re being so silent about it. Maybe you feel like this person who helped you is your only friend. Maybe they made you believe that.”

“Cordell, I can’t-”

“And I’m not asking you to turn them in. I’m not saying listening to them makes you a fool, but if you have any love for your cousin, if you have any love for me, you would consider the things we sacrifice for the ones we love the most. I haven’t seen my husband in months, but I understand he has a duty to fulfill. I would not go behind his back, I would not run out on him as I know he would not me. I will simply remain content for the moments we can be together. Those little moments, however brief they may be, mean all of creation. Do you understand what I am saying, cousin?”

Calion looked up at her, the guilt he felt in his chest spiking to an irregular rate. He nodded. The words sat with him. In all his time with Nikos, the prince had not considered what he might have been sacrificing, the time he was volunteering despite what he had waiting for him… all just to keep his prince safe. Calion knew he couldn’t just turn Cookie in, but maybe he could nudge Nikos in the right direction. Maybe...  

“Uh, Cordell.”

“Yes, cousin?” She replied gently as they danced hand in hand.

“Where is Nikos anyway?” 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

“This way.” The guard spat, guiding Nikos through the grounds of the palace menagerie. “Queen doesn’t want you anywhere near the family tonight, so you’re going to be guarding the animals. Should be easy for a man of your origins.” The guard chuckled. Nikos’ demotion had yet to take effect, but that didn’t stop most of the guards from treating him like he was the worst kind of dirt beneath their boot flats. “So, what say you? Think you can handle that, farm boy?”

“You’re adorable. If I weren’t duty-bound to this family, I would have slit your throat and presented your cold corpse to my wife as a gift.” Silence surrounded the two as a strange look befell the guard's face.

“J-just watch the animals.” The guard turned and walked away, hightailing it as fast as he could away from Nikos. That had managed to bring some joy to the man, but it wouldn’t last. Just weeks ago, he was captain of the guard in his father’s absence. Now he was watching a bunch of animals because his queen didn’t trust him enough to be around his own family. He could have been dancing with his wife right about then, but his new orders had come so swiftly. She offered to come along, but he didn’t want her spending her night at what was considered one of the more unpleasant posts by many of the guards. He didn’t want her to dirty the dress she had worked so hard to put together herself. He didn’t want her to see him like this, brought so low in just months.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Despite his best efforts, Calion could not find his cousin among the horde of family that had been present in the ballroom. He tried everything he could think of, from asking around to looking for the man himself, the best he could without actually leaving the ballroom, anyhow. Most of the answers he got were either vague or the people he asked had no idea at all. 

Calion only hoped Nikos wasn’t in serious trouble. Despite their differences, lately, he would never wish any kind of harm to his cousin. He thought about his actions leading up to that point. He thought about what he did to land Nikos and himself in the mess to begin with, and the more he thought about it, the more regretful he felt. Not for doing it but for getting caught, for not being more careful.

“Is s-something wrong, Calion?” Whiskken asked, pulling the prince from his thoughts. After his dance with Cordell, Calion had been passed around for a bit before ending up with his twin cousins once again. Now they were all slow dancing to a beautiful tune together.

“Nothing. Just thinking is all.”

“Of what dear cousin?” Whiskleena asked.

“Nothing. Don’t mind me.”

“I-is it about the shadow claw?” Whiskken whispered so faintly, Calion could barely hear him.

“What? No, of course not… why, what have you heard?” Calion smirked, his curiosity getting the best of him suddenly.

“N-nothing good. I heard they have a device that can mask your scent from other people, so you won’t be able to pick up their smell.”

“Get out, what?” Calion said, not able to contain his giggling fit. He loved learning about the shadow claw. The things they could do and their many exploits and acts of mayhem around the kingdom, and the more he learned about this mysterious figure, the better.

“Well, I heard he can shapeshift.” Whiskleena cut in, a crumb of jealousy in her voice.

“What? That's just ridiculous. How?”

“Calion, you realize what century we are living in, don't you, dear cousin? Technology has come a long way. I even heard the Earth government is developing time travel capsules for everyday use.”

“Time travel?” Calion snickered at his cousin. Time travel seemed a bit too far-fetched for him, but shapeshifting tech was different. “You think anyone here tonight could be the shadow claw?” The children looked around, examining the sea of beautiful gowns and colorful multi-piece suits. What started as a joke formed into an actual possibility in Calion’s mind. He had many family members, some faces he didn’t recognize too well, and some he had never interacted with at all. Even without a shapeshifting device, Calion wasn’t sure he’d be able to make out the shadow claw among this crowd, and he was sure that was true for quite a few of his family members as well. “Hold on,” Calion said, still dancing with his cousins’ hands in his own. “I think I just saw something.”

“What?” Whiskleena whispered back to him. “Where?”

“Over by that exit. I'm not too sure, though.”

“W-what was it?” Whiskken questioned with a stutter.

“Someone I didn’t recognize as royalty, that's for sure.”

“Could it have been an employee?”

“Hmmm, not sure. I wish I could get a better look, but I won’t be able to get out of sight of the guards long enough.” Calion hummed when a thought came to mind. “Whiskleena, I need you to do me a favor.”

“Anything, dear cousin.”

“Okay. I need you to distract those guards watching me.” 

“Oh…” She looked in the direction he had alluded to. “You mean the ones with the broad shoulders and intense looks in their eyes?”

“Those are the ones. Think you can handle it?” She gave the group another look, her worried expression passing into confidence in a brief flash. 

“Why of course, dear cousin. I am nothing if not persuasive.” She broke off from the boys, fixing the shoulders of her dress as she approached the group of watchful guards. “Alright, Whiskleena, it is your time to shine, dear girl.” She shimmied up to the group of guards, her puffy dress bouncing with each step she took. She reached them and instantly started spinning a yarn about something or another. They didn’t seem to be paying attention at first, their concerns still with Calion, but after a moment of trial and error, Whiskleena finally managed to catch their heated gazes.

“And you’ve seen this.” Calion heard one guard say.

“Why yes. I am no liar." Whiskleena cooed with a wicked grin. “I can show you if you want?” The guards looked at one another. Finally, the head guard shrugged.

“If someone is lurking around the prince’s quarters, we should check. Lead the way, my lady.” She began to make her way out of the ballroom, and without hesitation, Calion’s designated guards followed, all six piling through the crowd and toward the exit. Calion would admit he was a bit flabbergasted by their decision to leave, but he wouldn’t dwell on the thought for long. He had to get out while he could.

He grabbed Whiskken by the arm, pulling him through the torrent of dancing Ventrexians and avoiding any remaining guards as they found their way out of the ballroom. Calion looked around the mostly empty halls of his home. There weren't too many guards in sight, but no unfamiliar shadowy figures either. It looked like they had a search on their hands.

“Okay, Whiskken. Let’s get going.”

“A-are you sure about this, Calion? M-maybe there weren't any suspicious fingers lurking around. H-have you considered that it might have been Aunt Pewtunia? Y-you know how conspicuous she likes to be.”

“Whiskken, trust me, it was not Aunt Tunia.” Calion put a hand on the nervous boy’s shoulder. “Don’t you trust me on this?” Whiskken averted his eyes for a brief second and nodded. “Good. Let's go.”

The two boys' adventure brought them to many parts of the palace, from bed chambers to indoor gardens with glass ceilings. Despite his best efforts, there was no stranger to be found, no shadowy fingers lurking about, no suspicious people, Ventrexia or otherwise. Still, that didn’t stop Calion from looking high and low, whilst avoiding the occasional guard. If this holiday was good for one thing, it was the lack of security in certain spots of the palace. Their laxness, combined with the interconnecting rooms of his large home, made it easy for the boys to sneak past any obstacle.

“Calion, I’m not so sure this is a good idea,” Whiskken said past a slight stutter in his low tone. Unlike Calion, his cousin hadn’t been enjoying the adventure quite as much as the prince had. He jumped at every little thing, from creaking doors to the tiniest waterdrops. “We should get back before anyone notices you’ve gone.”

“What? No, we can’t.” Calion argued against the boy. “Whiskken if there's someone here, then we have a chance to discover them and clear myself of any wrongdoing my parents think I may or may not have done.”

“W-what if it is the shadow claw?”

“Even better. Then we can stop them ourselves.”

“We’re kids?” Whiskken said, somewhat unsure and completely sure of his words at the same time. 

Calion sighed regrettably. Maybe his cousin had a point. Why would he risk more trouble for something he thought he saw? If anything, it was an excuse to get away from the celebration. He was just looking for excitement elsewhere.

“Okay… let's-” Calion paused, the sound of voices in the hall drawing in him and Whiskken’s attention.

“What was that?”

“Guards,” Calion replied, recognizing the mundane chatter among the royal guard approaching.

“Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no.” Whiskken began to panic as he pulled at his ears.

“Whiskken stop.” Calion hissed, grabbing him by the hands and pulling him into a nearby room. He closed the door softly before pulling Whiskken deeper into the room. It was another guest room, one with a door on the opposite end of where they stood. “Okay, let's…” Calion paused, 

"What now-"

"Shush." His ears twitched at the sound of a faint whispering. He turned in the direction of the noise and saw that the room's lavatory door had been left slightly ajar. That's where it had been coming from. Calion slowly stepped toward the door, ears perking at sharp whispers before stopping beside it. He listened closely. The voice was soft, but he could make out a few words.

“Yeah… tonight..? That should work… he should be ready… don’t make a mess of this…” Calion raised a brow. Who was in there, and who were they speaking to? Could it have been the mysterious finger he’d seen earlier? Calion’s heart began to pound furiously at the thought of a villain in his home. His journey wasn’t for nothing after all. Now all he had to do was catch this person. He readied himself, tongue poking past his sharp teeth with overwhelming excitement as he gripped the handle to the door and whipped it open.

“Aha!”

“Ah- oh- Calion!” The figure turned, shocked and startled, halfway out of their pristine white fur. 

“Oh man.” Calion huffed when seeing the man. “It’s just you, Cookie? What are you doing here?”

“Well, before you gave me a heart attack, I was using the bathroom if you must know.” The man patted down his shirt.

“Who were you talking to?”

“Hmm.” The man looked genuinely confused before a streak of fear passed his expression, then confident ease afterward. “Oh, I was just on the phone with my father. I'm going to be flying out to Nizu tonight, and I wanted to make sure he could pick me up from the port in time.”

“Nizu?” Calion posed the question to himself, recognizing the name as a province in the eastern regions. “Wait, you’re heading home?”

“Oh yes. Suppose I should have told you earlier, shouldn’t I?”

“Well, yeah.” Calion puffed out his cheeks and folded his arms. He was disappointed to be receiving the news now. “How long will you be gone?”

“Not long. Just until after the holidays. We have our own tradition in Nizu, you know.” Calion nodded. Of course, he knew. He knew all there was to know about his planet and her people, and he was still learning. He wished his studies weren't so rigorous most days. “Look, you kids should really be heading back. I don’t want you to get in more trouble than you are.”

“Right.” Clarion blurted. He had nearly forgotten he was under watch. By now, the guards would have called Whiskleena’s bluff and were no doubt on their way back to check on him in the ballroom. “Come on, Whiskken. See you later, Cookie.”

The man waved as the two boys ran out of the room and back into the hall. “Goodbye Calion…”

“Calion, there you are!” Whiskleena shouted. She ran at them, holding up the ends of her dress to move faster. “Calion, we should get back. The guards are scrambling to find you.”

“Ugh, of course.” Calion groaned, slapping a hand to his head. “Right, let's go.” He took off with the twins following close behind him. Hopefully, he could sneak back into the ballroom without anyone noticing. 

Chapter Text

Calion peeked into the ballroom, nearly stripped of breath. Like his cousin had mentioned, his guards had been scouring the ballroom in search of him. They checked between the royales, of course, offering apologetic bows for disturbing their dance. Behind him, the twines peeked over his shoulder and at the current situation.

“N-now what?” Whiskken muttered anxiously as his fingers tightened around Calion's shoulder. 

Calion hummed thoughtfully. “Easy.” He said. “Just follow me. Walk slowly and act casual.” He stepped in first, followed by his cousins. Whiskleena had followed Calion's instructions to the word, holding her head high and keeping her footfalls in step with the young prince’s. She was an amazing bluffer, and her poker face was outstanding. You’d have to second-guess if she had done anything wrong, even when you had definitive proof she did. Whiskken, on the other hand, was having a bit more trouble. His body was locked stiff, and his arms fell to the side as if he were standing at attention. The boy was practically sweating bullets; he walked like he needed to use the restroom, and, worst of all, he was smiling. It wasn’t his usual nervous, though soft, smile. It was more rigid, an ear-to-ear display of unfiltered anxiety spread along his lips to each of their dismay. He looked guilty of something, and if he didn’t cut it out, they were all going to be found out. “Whiskken! Stop looking like that.” Calion whispered over to his cousin.

“Looking like what?” He quickly replied through that much too vibrant grin, his shoulders locking up tighter as Calion called him out.

“Stop looking like you just committed a crime and, for Ventrexia’s sake, stop doing that thing with your face.”

“I'm trying.” He whined through the wicked smile. “I think it’s stuck.”

“Oh, Lio, come, dear brother.” Whiskleena stopped and turned to her brother. “I’ll have you fixed up right away.” She reached for the boy's face and began to tug at the corners of his mouth. “Okay, just like that, I’ll have you right as rain in no time.”

“Ow, Whiskleena, stop.” He cried out, wincing in pain as his sister threatened to pull his face apart.

“Brother, stop moving.” She let out a labored grunt, her efforts drawing in more and more attention from the nobles that flanked them from all angles. “Whiskken, unclench your teeth, you literal insane person, you’re embarrassing me.”

“I caaaaaan’t.” He cried out again. By now, some of their aunts and uncles and a lot of their cousins had been drawn into the commotion with odd looks and raised brows. Even so, Whiskleena had refused to stop pulling at her brother's cheeks. Her rough treatment of his poor little face had only grown more disparate the longer she spent pushing and pulling at his nervous grin. Calion sighed and craned his head to the ballroom floor. So much for acting casual, he thought.

“Calion.” His father's voice boomed from behind him and filled a good portion of the cavernous ballroom. It had taken him by surprise, and by the looks of it, it had taken plenty of the other guests by surprise as well. The three kids turned to him after the echo of his voice had faded into nothing. Whiskleena had finally stopped tugging on her brother's face, and Whiskken, being the ever-dramatic boy he was, immediately flopped to his hands and knees before the king like a fish hitting a chopping board. He didn’t say anything, didn’t move an inch, only offered his deepest and most sincere apologetic bow he could dig up from the innermost recesses of his being. The king angled his head at the boy, bowing at his feet, eyes darting around quickly in confusion, before looking back up to Calion. “Where have you been?”

“I… Well, you know… I’ve been here with the twins.” Calion spoke, his expression as barren as he could manage and tone unassuming.

“Is that so?” The man hummed, though Calion could sense an irritated growl hiding somewhere in his tone. Despite his casualness, it seemed his father didn’t buy the statement one bit.

“Yep. I have nowhere else to be, and the guards make it extra impossible to be on my own, so I couldn’t do anything even if I wanted to.”

“The guards said they lost track of you for minutes."

“That's because I asked for some space to dance and they gave it to me. Avo, Dad, are you really going to start blaming me for your inept guards now? That's a pretty backwards thing to be doing to the son you keep locked up like a fairytale princess. Hey, but I guess it’s the most convenient thing, isn’t it? If something goes wrong, must be Calion."

“I-”

“Sir.” A guard ran up to them before his father could retaliate. His panicked eyes were drawn wide as if he’d seen a ghost, or worse. “The queen and Princess MewMew are… having a bit of a disagreement at the moment.” Calion clenched his teeth tightly at the guard’s frantic whispering.

“What? Are you sure?”

“Positive.” The king shuddered, a tinge of fear running down his spine.

“And where is my brother?”

“He thought to handle the situation alone, but I fear it has only gotten worse with his presence.” The king blew into his cheeks. The look on his face made it seem as if he were preparing for a long, brutal war. 

“Goddess… Okay. Calion.” He looked to his son again. “This conversation is not over. Once I am through with you, mother, and aunt, I will have answers.” He spun back to the guard and gestured to him. “Show me the way and be ready to evacuate the palace on my command.” The guard saluted, and his dad was off to fight a much bigger battle, to the prince's relief.

Calion sighed sharply. In that moment, he really appreciated his mother in MewMew’s strained relationship greatly. The two women never really got along with one another. They were both tough, uncompromising princesses from will-to-do families, and something about that just didn’t click between them. Some part of Calion felt that MewMew resented the fact that his father had taken the crown. Being firstborn meant he was entitled to the throne before Catomar. She didn’t hate his father, not at all. The matter lay more with who he’d been marrying. She resented the fact that Callisto would be Queen, though her feelings on the matter weren’t a new development. Even before the marriage and the king's induction, MewMew and Callisto never saw eye to eye. MewMew made it no secret that she thought the future queen at the time was an airheaded, self-entitled strumpet, and Ventrexia knew his mother would often refer to MewMew as mannish and graceless. Of course, nowadays, when they were together, they would share courteous smiles and compliments, but when the going got rough, the two never held back their true feelings for one another, and the gods have mercy on anyone who got in the way.

“Whew, that was a close one.” Whiskleena huffed, fanning herself down with one hand. Her brother, on the other hand, was still on the ground, still bowing with deep remorse over his actions to a figure that had long gone. “For Ventrexia’s sake, Whiskken, get up off the floor. You’ll ruin your nice suit.”

“D-d-d-did he accept my apology?" Whiskken raised his head, his face covered in hot tears and bubbling snot.

“Whiskken.” Calion groaned at the wreck of a boy.

“I-i-i-i do-don’t w-w-want t-t-to b-b-be i-in a-any m-m-more t-trouble.” He cried out, coughing after each syllable.

“Dear brother, we are not in any more trouble than we already are. Now, please wipe down your face. You are getting boogies all over yourself.”

“Yeah, Whiskken, stand up.” Calion reached out a hand, helping his cousin off the ballroom floor. “Look, I'll get you a tissue and then we can finish our dance.” Whiskken sniffled as his tears began to subside. His face was still a mess, but at least he looked more presentable.

“T-thank you, Calion.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t thank me quite yet. We still made a scene. And dad might be on to us.”

The twins went silent along with Calion. None of them had much to say in the shadow of their little misadventure. Calion could only see his punishment getting worse from here on out, and by that point, he’d be lucky to have a rubber band and a paperclip to use as entertainment once his father was done. 

“Wow, you kids look a little down in the dumps.” Calion peered up at the singing voice that had accosted him, as did his cousins. The man who stood before them with a drink in one hand was slender, well-dressed, though he normally was even on casual occasions. He had the same black fur with the white patch around his neck as the twins did. He was classically handsome, his face being as perfectly symmetrical as his posture, and he carried himself with a typical royal, flamboyant flair seen among the more comfortable nobility.

“Hello, older brother.”

“H-hello, older brother.” The twins both greeted the man with a mix of emotions. Whiskleena was somewhat annoyed with the man’s slender presence, while Whiskken greeted him with a faint smile. Whether or not it was genuine, Calion didn’t really know.

“What about you, Calion? Can’t a cousin get a warm welcome from the prince? Or are you too good for that now?”

“Hey, Whiskben.” Calion welcomed him a bit nervously, forgoing the usual greeting preserved for other nobles. “I didn’t know you were back home. I thought you were leading a command position in the Elteer system.”

“Will I was, but as you probably know, the war has hit a bit of a cooldown.” Right, the ceasefire. Calion had been listening in on the goings-on of the war between the kingdom of Ventrexia and the Tera Con Empire. Some might say it was none of his business, but he would make it his business. This was his nation, too, and he had a right to know all the goings on involving it. From what he knew, the fighting had stopped, but Calion was sure some groups were still taking potshots at each other on certain fronts. “I think what matters more is the news I've been hearing about you, little cousin. A little incident involving an unauthorized outing.”

“Heh… you heard about that, huh?”

“All the families have heard, Cal.” He gave Calion a grin that he could only describe as perverted, like he was taking pleasure in the gossip. “Gotta say, I never thought I’d see the day when the sheltered prodigal son would disobey his father’s word.”

Calion smugly snickered at his slender cousin. “I'm always disobeying my father’s word because that's all they are. Words. Words that can’t keep me caged.” Calion smirked, jabbing a thumb into his chest as he spoke. He held his head high and mighty, turning it away from Whiskben in a regal manner, as if to say that the man was not worth his time and he might not have been in that moment.

“Oooh. Be careful with that entitlement, cousin. You might just trip over it.”

 Calion groaned at the man’s response, thinking that it was hypocritical coming from him. “Why do you care?” He said, a bit frustrated. “You were always just as brash and entitled, from what I know. Before you went away, you used to spend your days verbally torturing your siblings and throwing massive parties with much too eager women.” 

“Yes, that was before I went away.” He spoke pointedly. “Father thought my actions needed a disciplinary hand, so I was sent straight to the royal academy and from there, to command soldiers. The battlefield has a way of altering the Ventrexian spirit, Calion. The role you must take and the people you become responsible for change how you view life and the position you’ve been given by it. It’s a humbling experience.” Whiskben smirked into the distance as if recalling better times. Calion just rolled his eyes at the man. “Ah, anyhow, that's enough rambling from me. I heard you’ve been improving in the arts. Your music-making skills have been fermented like the most delectable wine. I wish to hear it.”

“What?” Calion coughed, nearly choking on his own shock as his pride deflated into a flat discomfort.

“You heard me,” Whiskben said. “The music now is fine, but I wish to hear my cousin play. Right here, before the whole family.”

“I don’t know…”

“Oh Calion, that is an excellent idea.” Whiskleena gushed, pulling gently at Calion’s arm. The suggestion had made her more excited than he was comfortable with. “As much as I hate to agree with my older brother, he has a point.”

“I mean-”

“I-I would love to hear you play Calion.” Whiskken meekly joined in the goading with gentle eyes and an adorable little smile.

“Well, Calion, that's three to one. Normally, not hopeful odds in a battle. What’s say you?” Calion looked between the three siblings. His heart beat subtly with the intensity of their staring. Their eyes pierced him deeply, to the core. Now he was feeling obligated.

“O…key… yeah, why not.” The three shared a little cheer in response. He’d never had a live audience that wasn’t Cookie before, so he was nervous, but it looked like he was doing this. He’d get his drum and play a little music for the family. What was the worst that could happen?

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Nikos checked the name of some creature off the screen of his Digi padd. All the animals in the pen had been accounted for. The menagerie grounds were large, and the pens were filled with animals of all sorts. The task was degrading. The animal pens stunk to high hell, and with his sense of smell, it was particularly rough on his nose. His boots, which were normally always polished to perfection, were covered in the excrement of exotic creatures from other worlds, which he failed to evade in the dark after having to step inside some of the exhibits. It wasn’t the highlight of his career, but even so, Nikos refused to let himself be made less from this assignment. It was a demeaning assignment, but it was an assignment all the same, and he would treat it with the same diligence as he would in protecting the halls of the grand palace.

Nikos marched on, keeping a close eye on each and every pen. The animals were all sleeping, save for a few of the nocturnal creatures who’d been chirping and hollowing and making all manner of nightmarish sounds throughout the night.

Along his patrol, his ears perked at the sound of boots approaching along the pavements of the menagerie. He spun quickly, unstrapping his rifle and pointing at the would-be intruder. 

“Whoa, now. Let's watch where you point that thing, friend. You’ll shoot someone's eyes out.”

“Kedi.” Nikos lowered the barrel of his rifle, though Kedi never flinched. He stood there, smiling with a bottle of champagne in one hand and two glasses in the other. “You should learn to announce yourself more properly. I could have killed you.” 

“Yes, no doubt, but no worries. Had you succeeded, I would have spent the rest of the night haunting you from beyond." He said in a tone as smooth as a melody and chuckled. Nikos, less entertained, rolled his eyes at the bigger man.

“Why are you out here? Shouldn’t you be helping with the security inside?”

“Eh, Security is fine. Besides, what's wrong with wanting to come see one of my best friends?” Kedi shrugged, his carefree demeanor on full display. Nikos just shook his head at the man. “And I thought we could share a drink.”

“Can’t.” Nikos turned and resumed his patrol of the menagerie.

“Come on, Nikos. You have to take it easy. You’ve always been so high-strung.”

“Well, someone has to be. If not, this place would have fallen into disarray months ago.”

“Well, unwind for once. For me?” Kedi said softly. “It is the brethren dance after all. Even someone as hard-working as yourself deserves a little break.” His smile had subsided into a much softer smirk as he held the glasses out in front of him. Nikos stopped and turned, his lips curled up with consideration. 

“Fine.” He agreed coldly, taking one of the glasses out of the bigger man’s hand. What could be the harm in one drink, especially if with a friend?

They quickly found a spot to sit, a bench that stood in front of one of the smaller pens on the grounds. It was a nice spot, decorated with little lights and surrounded by nicely trimmed foliage. Kedi poured their drinks, and the two began to drink, mostly in silence. It was a comfortable silence, one that could only be shared between people who were beyond familiar with one another to care about silly things like making conversation for the sake of it. They never talked if they didn’t need to, and that was okay, because they never loved one another any less.

“So,” Kedi began, taking a small sip of his drink. “What's on your mind?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, with all the excitement lately, the sudden ceasefire, Calion getting away from the palace, and a demotion. It has to be a lot to take in all at once.”

Nikos scoffed slightly. “Your point is?”

“My point is that you must be stressed. Being in the position you are, the maintenance, the paperwork, commanding an entire garrison, and having to wrangle the prince on top of all of that. You’re a strong man, Nikos, more so than most I’ve seen in my time, but even you have to admit when the pressure becomes too overwhelming. Talking about it never hurts.”

“Talk? At a time like this?”

“It’s times like this when I find it best.” Nikos scoffed at his friend again. “I feel like talk is useless for what I’m feeling.”

“And what is that?” Kedi asked, taking another sip from his cup.

“Nothing to get worked up over.” It was Kedi’s turn to scoff as he playfully slapped the back of his hand to Nikos’ arm.

“I get the feeling it works you up more than you think.” Nikos sighed, taking a sip from his cup.

A frustrated breath exited Nikos as he stopped to consider the words and his feelings all at once. “It’s Calion.” He said. “Calion just very much bothers me.”

“Oh?” Kedi raised a brow past a tilted cup.

“Not Calion himself, but the things he says. The things he does. I have no idea what’s gotten into him. He used to be such a sweet boy, and now.” Nikos chuckled against his will. “He talks of things a child should not be privy to. He treats me like I am the greatest villain he has ever seen. He speaks more like a revolutionary instead of a boy of noble blood, and I don’t know why. Someone is putting these words into his ear and causing his tongue to spew them freely, with no remorse, but I don’t know who. Of course, I have my suspensions. That one tutor…” Nikos paused, his eyes tightening into a thoughtful squint.

“Go on?” Kedi urged.

“It’s nothing. I don’t have enough evidence to accuse him outright. Still, there’s something off about him.” He went quiet again. His drink sat dormant in his hand as he stared straight ahead. Kedi looked over, already pouring himself another drink.

“What's on your mind?” He asked after some moments.

“Not much.” Nikos sighed woefully, gesturing to the pen ahead of them with his cup. “That's the chicken coup. Calion loves the chickens.”

“Ah, yes. He loves all the animals.”

“But the chickens especially.” Kedi hummed as Nikos smiled softly into the distance. The mood had grown somber; both men could feel it.

“You know Nikos. I’ve never known you to be a gentle man.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means you carry yourself like a stonewall. Your exterior is as hard as ancient ice, but melt that ice away and what's underneath is the heart of a gentle angel.” Nikos stared at him for a moment and smiled.

“I think the champagne is starting to take effect, my friend.” He laughed.

“Hey, I'm only a tad drunk.” He laughed before it faded. “But I’m being serious,” Kedi said, his face now as flat as his tone. “You and Calion share something special. You treat him like he’s your own child most days. You treat him with a gentle understanding. I think that's what Calion needs at the monument. Not harsh treatment or punishment, but for someone he looks up to, to be gentle with him. I think he needs the you within and not the soldier on the icy surface. Maybe that's what's driving him to act the way he does.”

Nikos’ first instinct was to laugh his tipsy friend off. He had tried being gentle with Calion, and it’s gotten him nowhere. But the more he thought about the man's reasoning, the more he came to realize how wrong he might have been. In his struggle to find answers, Nikos realized that he might have been impatient with his young cousin. What he thought was him showing understanding was really just a ploy to get the prince to admit his guilt, and his mistake was thinking Calion was too naive to understand that. 

“Hmm…” Nikos hummed, sipping at his drink. “Maybe-” He stopped, one brow rising high as some odd scent passed through his nostrils. He stood and sniffed at the air, once, twice, three times before stopping and turning to Kedi. “Do… Do you smell that?” Nikos knew the man was an excellent tracker and knew that Kedi could smell what Nikos was smelling at that moment.

“What-” Kedi sat up on the seat as a curious look crossed his face. The scent was familiar, foul, metallic, and the unmistakable smell of fresh blood followed with it. “No… Toruk?”

“Talons,” Nikos said on Kedi’s confirmation. “Quick. Back to the palace.” They took off, leaving their drinks to rest on the bench. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Calion stepped into his quarters with a guard by his side. “I won't take long.” He assured the guard, and the man nodded as he stood by the door. He then made his way to his closet, stepping in and finding the spot where he usually kept his drum wrapped snuggly. He couldn’t believe he was going to do this, in front of so many people, no less. He only hoped they liked what he had to offer. He’d never had an audience before, so his nerves had hit peak highs he never thought imaginable.

Calion took a moment to breathe. His tail swayed behind him quickly, though it would settle with each breath he took. He could do this. He would do this. He turned, walking out of his closet and back into his room proper, when he noticed that it had gone dark. The light had turned off, and his guard had seemingly vanished. 

“What…?” He muttered, holding his bell drum tightly to his chest. “Hello.” Hesitantly, he called out but got no response. He hadn’t been gone that long, had he? He would have rushed to turn on the light, but a strange sense had fallen over him then as if he were being watched from the shadows. Calion sniffed the air, but he could smell nothing that wasn’t familiar to him. Still, that uncomfortable feeling remained. As he began to make his way further into the room, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, he stopped. His body froze as his vision traced an unmistakable form in the corner by his bed. “Wh- who's there?” He called out, something he had regretted immediately as he began to tremble.

A small chuckle filled the darkness as the shadowy figure began to inch forward. “Well, ello love.” The figure spoke, their voice feminine and accented in a tone he didn’t recognize. They stood close, just close enough for Calion to make out a few of the figure’s features. She was a human woman, her hair a faded blonde, and a black suit much too skin-tight for comfort. “I hope you’re ready to leave this place behind, little man.” She held out her hand, seemingly waiting for Calion to take it, but the boy didn’t. He didn’t do much, couldn’t do much beyond tremble and shake and stare at the woman before him. Then, as if backing away from a dangerous predator, he began to move toward his room door slowly. The look on the woman's face had seemed to shift in the shadows. Her expression became more confused as she slightly tilted her head to the prince. Calion, still shuffling toward the door, kept his eyes on the intruder. He didn’t want to look away. He was scared, terrified out of his mind, but he kept moving until he tumbled over something in the dark.

His bell drum hit the floor, the chiming of multiple bells ringing out in pain as he looked over to see what he had just fallen over. His eyes went wide with horror as they came to rest on the object. It was his guard, slumped against the wall near the door. His throat had been slit, a river fall of blood stained both his uniform and the carpets beneath, and his eyes… they were cold, lifeless. Calion didn’t know what to think, but he knew he didn’t want to be in the room any longer. 

He stood, turned to the door, and ran, but was stopped. He looked back. The woman had taken hold of his cloak and was tugging at it, trying to bring him closer to her. Calion, in a panic, undid the long cape, sending the woman backwards into the dark as he made a mad dash out of his room.

He ran down the halls, his body exhausted but fueled by fear, and he ran and he ran and ran until he found a guard wandering the halls.

“Guard!” He called out to get the man's attention. “Please, I need your help! There's a woman in my-” Before Calion could reach the guard, a shot had rung through the hollowed halls. He stopped running as his face was doused with a hot, wet feeling. He looked at the guard in disbelief. The man’s head had split open, and one eye dangled out of its socket as the man’s brain matter struggled to stay in what used to be his skull. His arms went limp first, then his body hit the ground like a sack of rocks. Calion could only watch, his jaw agape as he came eye to eye with another figure, or multiple figures. The ones that had pulled the trigger from behind his deceased guard. They were clearly Ventrexian, but the armor they wore was unlike anything he’d seen. Midnight black covered them from head to toe, though the visors of the helmets flashed with a pulsing red light.

“There he is, the prince!” One yelled, pointing a clawed finger at the boy. “Get him!” Hearing the man shout, Calion turned and ran down a nearby corridor. He didn’t know where he would go, but had no time to think then as the sound of fighting and gunfire filled his ears from all around him. All he had to do was run, get away, even hearing the footfalls hot on his trail, he ran as fast as he could. However, no matter how fast he ran, these people were faster.

They caught up to him and tackled him to the ground. Calion struggled against their grip, shaking and trashing violently, but it wasn’t enough, and as they moved to restrain him more, gunfire filled his ears. Suddenly, he was able to move again, but he was now drenched in that hot, wet feeling that had splattered across his face.

“Get up, boy!” A woman rushed over and reached out her hand.

“Skarlia?” Calion said, never more happy to see his combat tutor than at that moment. He grabbed her hand, and she pulled him off the ground with a swift tug.

“Come on.” She pulled at him, dragging him through the halls with her rifle in the other hand. It was then that he began to focus on the commotion taking place around him. The gunfire, the shouting through the halls. Were they being attacked?

“Who were those guys!?”

“The Gora. Goddess, I never thought I’d see the day when they would pull such a brazen act.” Calion was silent. Were those the shadow claws soldiers? Did that mean the shadow claw was actually in the palace at that very moment? “Keep moving!” Skarlia ordered, still dragging the boy by his arm. They rounded another corner, running right into another group of people Calion didn’t recognize as guards. Their claws were long and sharp, teeth sharper. Their snouts were long, and from their heads protruded spine spikes, or hair, or feathers.  They weren't Ventrexian but something far worse.

“Toruk.” Calion shuddered at the sight of the group. There were many of them in that one corridor, looting the corpses of dead guards, and they were armed to the teeth. Despite there being too many for her to handle, Skarlia readied herself nonetheless. She clenched her teeth and growled as she hid the prince behind her, acting as his shield. The group of raptor-like men took aim, but before either side could act, shots erupted from behind the group of Toruk, and one by one they all hit the ground in puddles of blood.

“Good shooting, Kedi,” Nikos said as he ran past the group of now dead Toruk with Kedie just behind him. “Calion, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“Don’t worry. It’s not his blood.” Skarlia saluted the man.

“Ventrexia,” Nikos growled, his anger unrestrained as he tried to wipe down Calion’s face. “We have to get him back to the ballroom. The nobles are secured, but there are still too many invaders to deal with.” The others agreed and took off. Kedi picked up Calion, scoping up like a newborn. It didn’t take them long to get to safety. The ballroom was in an uproar of royals, either ready to fight or cowering for their lives after hearing the first shots echo through the grand halls. Nikos escorted the prince through the crowd and to his parents.

“Ventrixa, Calion.” His mother ran over and hugged him tightly.

“Nikos, what is happening?” The king asked, seemingly unaware of the full scope of the situation.

“Fighting has broken out all over the palace, my lord. Toruk and Gora. Somehow they got in. I'm doing everything in my power to rally the man.”

“Toruk, Gora? In my own home?” 

“Yes, my lord. There aren't many, but they are putting up a fight. I’ll deal with this. For now, you wait here with your family.”

“Okay,” the king nodded in agreement. “See that you drive these savages from our home.” No further words were needed from the guard captain. Nikos bowed and, with Kedi and a small detachment of guards, exited the ballroom ready for a fight.

All around Calion was chaos. His mother was frightened, clinging to him for dear life. His father was angry, ordering the remaining guards to barricade the doors faster than they could move. The twins crowded around the parents and siblings in fear of losing them. His family was caught in between wanting to help the guards fight back and staying put and doing nothing. And there, unmoving, shocked, catatonic, the young prince was, covered in blood that was not his own and suffering from an abrupt and violent loss of innocence. He didn’t speak for the rest of that night, even when the fighting had come to a stop and Nikos had won them the day; he spoke not a word.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

She looked over her shoulder, keeping the hood of her cloak over her head as she discreetly made her way through the old factory district of Ventrex city. She could think of worse ways to spend her night, but a failed attack on the Ventrexian grand palace certainly wasn’t on the list when she first accepted this job. Most of the men they were sent with were dead, and they had no Ventrexian prince to show for it. Well, what's done was done; there was no changing that. For now, she would have to focus on the backlash she would no doubt be getting for failing to bring this boy back with her.

She entered one of the seemingly abandoned buildings with a discrete elegance, going in through the rooftop to draw the least amount of suspicion. She dropped into the sparsely lit space with a quiet thud, the sound of grunting and fist smacking against a training dummy filling her ears from one end of the old factory hideout. That one never stopped training, she thought.

From the other end, the opening and closing of a zip lighter could be heard as the faint light of a cigarette burned in the darkness. Her comrades had made it back before her, which relieved her. She didn’t necessarily care about their safety, more so that they weren't captured.

“You!” The grunting had stopped. One of her colleagues, a Ventrexian finger clade in shadowy armor, yelled as they approved her. Their voice was filtered past the pulsing visor of their black and silver helmet. “What was that!?”

“Well, it was a bad outing if I had to say.”

“Don’t give me that Cutthroat! You were supposed to capture the boy, not let him slip through your grasp!"

“I feel like you could hardly blame me for your plan going tits up, mate. You're the one who said he’d be willing to leave. That your ear on the inside informed you that he was willing to come along without issue.” She replied, a bit smug. This wasn’t the first time she’d worked with bad information. As a spy for the Tera Con empire, it was bound to happen from time to time, but this was the first big bumble she’d suffered in a good long while. She never really liked speaking about the other one. 

“Typical.” Raspy laughter echoed from the other end of the large room, followed by a puff of white smoke. “I'm sure everyone expected more from our resident spy master. That just proves you shouldn’t put all your eggs in one basket.” 

“And you!” The shadow-clad Ventrexian turned his furious gaze to the other man in the room. “Why did I get reports that your men had opened fire on the prince!? We need him alive, not dead, you idiot!”

“Hey, these things happen. Orders get mixed up in the heat of the action.” The unseen man droned with a hint of humor in his tone, his southern rasp scraping the walls of her ears like glass.

“You two are really the best he has? Pathetic. All those years of planning, down the drain because he decided that you would be the best for the job.”

“Calm down, their kido.” She finally spoke up after letting the Ventrexian’s tantrum simmer. “It’s not over yet. They’re rattled now, and that's what's important. They're bound to do something drastic, pull out some desperate tactic that would make our job a lot easier.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Trust me. I’ve brought down my fair share of empires. They will.” She said, and the shadow clade Ventrexian sighed, defeated but calmer.

“So be it. But your head will be the one the lord commander takes when this new plan doesn't pan out.”

“It’ll pan.” The unseen man stepped into the light. His black, wide-brimmed hat hid his eyes as a cigarette dangled from his pale lips. “If anyone can do it, it’s our resident spy, Sheryl Cutthroat.” Sheryl scoffed. She could sense a hint of sarcasm in the pale man’s tone. She had grown used to his ribbing, but even she had to admit that the gamble she’d taken by letting the prince get away was a big one. If it didn’t work out the way she wanted to, she’d be the one on the Lord Commander's chopping block.

“Despite what Black might really think of me, he’s right when he says it’ll pan. I’ve never failed a job, and I don’t plan on starting now.” Sheryl assured the shadow clade Ventrexian as they stepped into the light, stopping beside her and the pale man.

“We’ll see about that.” They muttered. The three of them may not have seen eye to eye, given their professions. An assassin, a mercenary, and a spy master typically didn’t go hand in hand most days, but they were all in the same boat. They served underneath the same iron boot of an emperor who only craved as much power as he could gather, and they would get him that power no matter the cost. It was them.

The cowboy, the shadow claw, and the saboteur.