Chapter Text
James sits in front of a sparkling clean mirror in his summer house. The windows are open but lack warmth of the sun, drapes swinging in cold winds. It’s less summer and more mourning; a warm blanket of parental hands distant from James’ shoulders. It makes James shiver.
He readjusts his soft, prince-like shirt as he thumbs the lace around his collar and wrists. The green compliments the dark blue in James’ eyes. It’s at that moment that James doesn’t want to look at him and his deep eye bags, standing up with less flair and more weight on his shoulders.
He has a whole kingdom waiting for him and he can’t even make eye contact with himself nor his people.
James doesn’t even bother stretching before he’s out of his cold and damp room, abandoning his king crown and jewelry on the plush pillows. The doors feel heavy with history and lack of love.
His strides are soft and hesitant, only moving more confidently when walking past family portraits. James' head is tilted upwards during those moments as he refuses to let the remaining of his parents see him so gloomily and un-kingly.
The summer home is large enough for James to narrowly avoid any maids and butler that might still buzz around the cold manor. The windows, unlike the ones in his bedroom, are closed with opened curtains. The sun was cloaked in shadows and gloomy clouds, reflecting James' state of silent grief.
The prince waltz room to room like an abandoned ghost, unsure of what he should be doing. He was taught to follow his father and mother’s footsteps into leadership, to be a prince till the time was right. But the time wasn’t right, and he had no warm smiles to count on.
His heeled shoes clack against marble titles and mahogany wood. His feet carry him to father’s office; the king’s office, his office. The doors wield fancy engravings with the kingdom’s history and of dragons. James remembers as a kid how he’d trace his fingers along the doors while he waited for his parents to finish business. He was too young of a prince to attend heavy topics of small wars.
The topics were still too heavy for James, crown on dark wisps of boy-ish haircuts.
He cracks open the dusty door with weak arms and untrained hands.
The office was sparse and had a small coat of dust, making the air feel choking to James. He gently steps inside and the door clicks shut behind him. It was just him and the office his father left him. James makes a wide arch from the desk and instead busies himself with the surrounding bookshelves.
History has never inspired James, but looking through ancient books of his kingdom’s monarch makes his heart feel less distant. He recognizes his grandfather and his distant relatives he hasn’t seen in years. He traces familiar branches of nieces and nephews he knows has grown up now well past baby pictures.
He feels the pages rough at the edges and more recent pictures being glued on top of older pictures. When the prince brings himself towards the last remaining pages, he finds his own picture.
An only child, distant blood to his cousins, and is surrounded with pictures of loving holds and a dead family. He merely glances at the page; doesn’t want to see the joy of this child and healthy titles of a beloved prince.
Folding the heavy book close, his hands exerted the energy to hold it up, and placed it back where it belonged.
The world slowly darkens itself as the day progresses for James, his time spent scouting for interesting books of dragons to old diaries stored from previous kings and queens. There were even some diaries of past princesses who became queen too early.
James’s heart aches for them.
It’s only when the moon shines through large windows when there’s a loud and elegant knock on the office doors.
James pauses, closes the most recent story he trapped himself within. He places it on the large desk instead of its place in the library and folds his hands behind him.
“Come in,” James calls, voice softer than it was during his past years in his summer home. The door handle turns and in comes a maid with pinned up hair and freckles. She bows before James and James feels unearned of the respect.
“Your highness,” the maid starts, “There’s been a request for your presence in your kingdom.”
“By who?” James asks, tilting his head in a child-like manner.
“The western kingdom,” she informs, “They asked to speak to you personally.”
James bathes in silence for a few seconds, processing the words. The west? The Eastern kingdom and the Western kingdom haven’t been very close, only some trades between potions, spices and gemstones. It wasn’t like they’re strong allies with each other. Prince James can count on his hand the times they fought together.
“What are they asking to discuss?” James asks again, hands moving from behind him to in front. James’ thumbs dance with each other while his other fingers lock together.
“They didn’t specify, your highness,” The maid answers. She looks over James' form with sad hues, painting Prince James blue before speaking again, “We can get you to arrive in a week if we start packing now.”
“Please do,” James agrees, “But please make sure that Percy is the one that carries the carriage,” he then adds his beloved horse to the mix. The maid only nods her head, bows her head and shares parting words with the prince before James is lost to the moon again.
/-\
It occurs to James that this was the first time he was back in the kingdom after months. The place feels foreign to him, stairs feel too uneven and the castle far too empty. It creates an even bigger void in James’ chest.
He lays on his plush bed, his crown rolled farther away from him when he flopped onto the bedding. The king’s bed would’ve been bigger for James but he doesn’t want to peek to see if the room was finally cleaned. James didn’t want to see an unmade bed dirty with crimes of death.
James moves his hands to his face, his rings causing to roll uncomfortably against his facial structure.
The prince moves from laying on his back to sprawled on his stomach; thankful that he took off any neck accessories beforehand. The window is closed but the curtains open wide for a clear view of a beloved garden and a sunless sky. It makes James’ once tan now paler than ever skin crawl.
He just guessed that he’d feel better if he got some time away, but the fear of being watched lingers in the castle and stays forever in James’ bones. A grandfather clock chimes in the background and James gets up once more from bed.
He walks past an unfinished lunch on a plate decorated with rubies.
James, instead of going to the exit of the prince chambers, moves towards the luxurious bathroom connected to his room. He finds a bathtub filled with hot water and floating purple peony and pink lily petals, oils on the side of the bath as well as scented soap bars.
He glances at an open window getting unneeded steam out before getting ready for a bath.
/-\
It’s pouring rain when James’ guests arrive; a loud and charismatic prince with his equally loud knight. The Prince of the West isn’t accompanied with his parents like James expected, though the prince guesses that it’s a relief.
Prince Parker was dressed in his kingdom’s colors fully, a rich black with golden accents, and his crown shined with gold and peony shaped gemstones. Mason followed code as his prince, difference being that Mason was wearing armor.
After being escorted from their carriage and to the front doors, James tilts his head towards them as a greeting, “Welcome Prince Parker and Sir Mason. It’s a pleasure to have you here.” James made sure to keep his words firm and elegant, trying to keep the prince flair to him.
Parker slightly bows to Prince James, “It’s more of a pleasure to meet you, King James.”
Prince James’ eye twitched, mouth fighting against itself to scowl at Parker, “It’s Prince James,” Parker’s eyebrow jerked at that but kept a friendly smile on his face. Mason looked between his prince and James, unsure if he should step in and defuse the situation.
“My apologies, Prince James,” Parker apologized, “I didn’t mean to use the wrong title.”
James only nodded at Parker’s apology before moving on to a different topic. “What is it that you wish to speak to me about?” The prince’s words came out with a harder tint, some lightness in the greeting no longer present.
“That’ll be uncovered in the meeting room,” Parker said, “Mind if we go ahead and start? It’ll be a long conversation I'm sure,” James’ stomach swirled at that, unease settling in his heart. The way Prince Parker smiled hit James the wrong way.
James didn’t share any more lasting words with Parker, leading him and Mason through his grief painted hallways. James leads them through darkened halls lit with fancy candles and flickering lighting which makes James jump.
It’s when thunder so loud it shakes the ground slightly that they reach their destination; the royal meeting room. Colored with rich greens and details of dragons and mythical beings is where the kingdom’s meetings of trade to war take place.
His father and mother once stood there, now Prince James must stand as them.
A devoted knight already stands by the door, informed ahead of time for the meeting between kingdoms. Though James can see how the knight follows Parker, as shock to not seeing the king and queen during this meeting or suspicious of the visiting prince, James does not know. He hadn’t spent enough time with any knights, let alone pick himself a private knight.
A private knight that won’t turn on you, one that is loyal to you and that you can cherish. It’s these thoughts that spiral James into the rabbit hole that is the central prince and his knight. Jealousy and a bitter tang make room in James body, making it tingle and decentralize his being.
Soon is the only word in James’ mind for a split second.
The standing knight opens the heavy door for the trio and as James steps through the doorway, he turns to his royal guests. “Sir Mason stays stationed here,” Prince James commands, voice hard with no reason to persuade him.
Prince Parker stands up to James, “Mason can come in with us,” he tries, but the eastern prince denies him by a shake of a head.
“This is my kingdom,” Prince James says, “and if I say your knight must be stationed somewhere, that’s where he’ll be.”
Parker’s typical elegance falters at that, his lips taking the form of a frown. However, despite disagreeing, Parker turns towards Mason and quietly speaks to his beloved knight, “Mason, please stay stationed at the door,” the knight was about to quietly ask before sharing a glance with James. At that, Mason merely nods, and takes a stand from the opposite side of the meeting door.
Once Mason is situated, James and Parker seat themselves around the round table. James sits back towards the window, hands finding clasp in front of him and onto the deep wood of the table.
James side-eyes the already placed glasses of perhaps wine.
“My knight would’ve been fine, being included in this discussion,” Parker starts, “He’s a loyal and trustworthy knight. He wouldn’t have even told his squire.”
James could only sigh, “It doesn’t matter what you say your knight is. This is a discussion between us and has nothing to do with your knight.” His words are strong and confident, gaining on a more despised king-tone to it.
Parker glanced from his glass to James’ glass before staring right back at James. His eyes have a lighter tint of blue than James’ own. Those blue eyes held something that made James’ skin crawl all over again.
“I don’t want to beat around the bush, we’ve wasted enough time already,” James begins the meeting, though a bit improperly, “What is it that you wanted to discuss?” Parker’s smile somehow turned brighter as if to become more charismatic.
“Prince James,” Parker says, “you’ve been lacking a knight.”
“I have plenty of knights, Prince Parker,” James argues with Parker, his thumbs once again twirling anxiously. The eastern prince hasn’t done a meeting himself before, always relying on his parents to help guide him when needed. James supposes he relied too much on his family.
“But not a personal knight- a private knight,” Parker states, “and it’s out of my own personal worry that a crowned…prince is without protection,” the words ‘after your parents’ death’ is unsaid but it burns James from the inside out. James takes a deep breath to compose himself; it’d be unwise to make enemies with a powerful kingdom after another war.
“No knight is one I can trust,” James says, “It’d be troublesome to rely on your health on another human being.”
The words that come out of Parker’s mouth punches the air out of James’ lungs. They cry for air as James tries his best to keep his footing, metaphorically.
“Excuse me?” James asks, flabbergasted by Parker.
“Would you get a personal knight if that knight was Dream?” Parker questions again, head tilting that’s just shy away from mimicking a dog. His blond hair that wasn’t held back by Parker’s crown falls over his eyes slightly, casting a shadow from candle light.
James sits in silence, listening to the creek of ancient wood around him and the sound of Parker shifting in his seat. Dream, as his personal knight? The son of a bastard? The rose knight, the bloody jewel himself? What is Parker’s plan with this?
“Why do you bring up the rose knight?” James echoes his own thoughts, “He’s a personal knight to Prince George already.” At that comment, Parker smirked.
“He’s the standard for knights,” Parker said, “People would die to have him as a personal knight. It wouldn’t be too strange for someone to be able to get a hold of him.”
“You’re asking for the kidnapping of a knight,” James says in shock, blood slowly losing home in his face.
Parker waves him off, “I could work a deal with Prince George. Having an incredible knight would help with what the last one couldn't,” The mention of James' past and gone knight makes James seize up in body language, his form becoming steel and still.
“Do not just casually bring up my past knight like that. You do not deserve to speak about him like that.” James’ voice was firm, cracks barely present as he put himself in a protective and cold shield. It was like opening an already infected wound, speaking about Francis. Parker doesn’t lash out back at James, he doesn’t raise his voice like James did. Instead, Parker continues to smile and forces his body to be calm.
“Prince James,” Parker continues the previous conversation tone of calm, “Why don’t we share a drink of wine? To loosen up, we’re friends and co-partners here.” Parker picks up his glass of red wine, twirling it in his hand before taking a sip.
The red stains the corner of Parker’s lips.
James slowly picks up his glass, his fingers threatening to crack the delicate glass. Pulling it to his nose, James takes a whiff of it. Not a hint of cinnamon or chemical stench to it. James repeats Parker’s motions of twirling the drink to spot for clumps before taking a hesitant sip.
Parker cheers, his voice bouncing off the walls slightly. It causes James to groan at the slight echo. If they were having a meeting at a pub, Parker would’ve fit right in with his personality and cheering.
The western prince takes one more sip of his wine before placing it back down. James copies the motion with a sneer.
“If you, metaphorically, managed to catch Dream,” James starts, “How would you do it and how would you get him to behave?”
Parker takes time to digest the question proposed by James. He then continues with the same confidence he had before, if only tinted with victory. “I’m close with the central Kingdom, they wouldn’t suspect me if anything went wrong. It’d be an easy sweep,” Parker then leaned in close towards the table, “I could even make it look like someone else did it.”
“Like putting blame on another kingdom?” James asks, his body feeling a bit tingly.
“Exactly, Prince James,” Parker said back, “Let's put the blame on someone who...holds grudges easier,” James doesn’t feel it click till he remembers some of his old history lessons. Remembrance of boring pages leads him to his conclusion.
“You want to set up The North?” James asks, “Aren’t they close though?”
“Makes for a better distraction,” Parker says, “it’s all in a good cause, helping a friend.”
James lets his thoughts swim in his head, his mind feeling farther away from him than usual. Does James need glasses? None of his family ever had vision issues but with how the world is starting to mesh together makes James want to re-read his family medical history.
James shook his head, adding a nauseous feeling in his stomach before continuing the conversation, “How do we get Sir Dream to even follow command? He’s a lap dog to Prince George, he won’t submit easily.”
While James’ heart twists at the thought of stealing someone else’s knight, it’s for a good cause as Parker said. Prince George has more than enough capable knights, he’s never lost a close knight before. They haven’t interacted with each other in years, as Prince George never responded to any of his messages nor letters.
Parker leans back in his chair, “I’ve gotten word from a few friends that there’s certain…potions you can create,” James’ poster curls slightly as he hunches more towards his collapsed hands.
“What potions?” James pushes.
“Potions that change how you think, how you look,” Parker answers, “They make you seem otherworldly. Another term would be supernatural.”
James' body feels shaky, his body feels numb. He doesn’t feel in control as his body fixes itself into a more proper poster. He feels his heart sink at both Parker’s words and his health.
“You want to…” James trails off, eyes feeling distant.
“It’s either that or we bring it out with a little bit of torture,” Parker has a look of what seems to be victory, but James cannot focus on it for long, “Prince James, you’re looking quite pale. Are you alright?” Parker doesn’t sound concerned, he doesn’t sound concerned at all.
“You…” James goes to say bastard but he didn't get the chance to finish his sentence before his body slumps. Red eyes staring right ahead with fog and tiredness, not even looking at the approaching prince.
Parker stands before James for a bit before yelling, “Guards! Prince James’ drink was tampered with!”
There was a loud slam before James vision sees two figures of green and black, expressions filled with worry and knowledge. And the last thing James sees in his vision is a terrified Mason and an actor in a prince’s skin.
At least James can rest peacefully, finally.