Chapter Text
Nothing in life is for certain, except for what you feel now. And as of right now, there’s only one thing Tord is certain of.
He fucking hates being a prince.
The stuffy outfits, the heavy crown, the peasants, the politics, the parties, the pressure. It’s just so much that it suffocates Tord. Not for any noble reason, of course, Tord just hates responsibility.
And tonight was every one of things combined. A coronation celebration- hosted in his castle’s ballroom. Not for him, but for his childhood friend Edd. His father passed away last week and now Edd was suddenly King Edward Galdinniar. His carefree sweets-loving bud was turned into this high-strung loser who didn’t even have time for their weekly apple-picking or hunting.
Well. Maybe Tord should be more lenient, the boy’s father did just pass away after all.
Those few things were on his mind as he stood on a stool, his arms outstretched for his royal dresser to fit him into his wear for the party. His tutor of 10 years, Pat, was standing in front of him, holding a paper. Pat’s long brown hair was in the way of his reading, so he tucked it behind his ear, something Tord noticed he did a lot.
“Alright Tord, pop quiz.”
“Hit me with it, Patty.” Tord replied, tone dry but soaked with boredom.
Pat clicked his tongue at the pet name, straightening the paper with an annoyed flick. The dresser slid a red silk button-up onto Tord’s arms.
“Who's the party for tonight?”
“Edd.”
Pat raised a brow. Tord rolled his eyes with a sigh before correcting himself.
“King Edward. Edward Galdinniar.”
“Good. He lives in?”
“Galdinnia? Pat, come on, I know all of this stuff!” Tord whined, his dresser fixing up his shirt before giving him fine black pants to wear. Tord shuffled them on as Pat kept going.
“Okay, let’s talk about the special guest Edd’s inviting, the Rocksonians. Where do they live?”
“Rocksonia. That little island across the sea.”
Pat glared this time, just as Tord was pulling on his gold-embedded boots.
“Sorry. Not little. Just an island.” Tord grumbled.
“Hm. Better…” Pat’s eyes scrolled down the paper, his fingertip following down the written words. He lit up when he found a good question, smirking at Tord.
“How many daughters and what are their names?”
Tord rolled his eyes again. Pat was always pressing him about girls, trying to get any reaction out of the prince. It was futile, and, maybe for an obvious reason.
“There are no daughters, Pat. Just two sons, Timothy and Thomas.”
“That’s right, but keep a lookout for the ladies!”
Tord stood up, his dresser adjusting two gold clasps onto his shoulders, connecting the glorious cape strung behind his back to his body.
“Pat, it’s not like I have to get married tomorrow. Can’t I just enjoy a party?”
Pat sighed and rolled up the paper, gently placing it on a table beside him. He stepped up to Tord, dusting off his red collar.
“You’re 19, Tord. You’re going to have to start a family soon, after all, you’re the last of your bloodline-”
Tord swatted Pat’s hand away, his silver eyes sharp with offense. Pat swallowed, knowing he’d gone too far. Clearly, it was too early to talk about it. Pat stepped back into his place away from Tord, his hands folded in his lap.
“Keep your options open, Prince.”
Tord let out a breath, slipping on a pair of heavy gold bracelet gauntlets. They held from his wrist to his elbow, being more expensive than most of the earnings the village got half a mile away from the castle.
“I’ll try, Pat.” He said, his voice quiet and laced with guilt for his sudden lash out. Pat wasn’t lying, Tord was the last chance his kingdom had for keeping the royal bloodline pure. Add that to the list of overbearing responsibilities.
The last item Tord was to put on for this party laid on a cushion a few feet in front of him. It was a gold crown, encrusted with red rubies and sparkling diamonds. This is what was promised to him since birth- shiny burdensome wealth. Tord knew he was unfit to be a prince, a king, or even a citizen of Larzinnia. Every day in this castle was another embarrassment to his father and mother, everything Tord did. How was he supposed to love being a prince when he knew he didn’t deserve shit?
So, he put on the crown and sucked it up. He headed to the ballroom.
~
Just as the party was being constructed in the ballroom, a family sat inside a carriage. This family wasn’t native to this section of the world, not at all. The Rocksonians weren’t even used to plains, their island was coated with snow and rocks. In fact, all Tom could focus on was the window, watching the town they were passing through.
“Thomas.” Eliza spoke, voice cold like always. She was sitting across from him, nestled next to his older brother Timothy, who was wearing that shit-eating smile like he did every time their mom was about to chew Tom out. Timothy looked just like Tom - His skin was tan, his hair was spiky (yet Timothy liked to smooth his instead of keeping it ruly), and he was a young adult. But Timothy didn't have the scars and eyes Tom did. He was the better version of a Rocksonian prince.
“Yes, mother?” Tom replied, peeling his attention away to meet his mother’s blues. Tom’s pitch black eyes absent of any visible pupil never failed to make his mother’s expression sour.
“I need you to stay focused. This is the most important day of your life after all.”
Tom frowned at that, despite knowing his mother truly believed that. She cared more about this than the idea of Tom getting married one day.
“If you break focus for even one second, you could fail this entire mission. Do you know how much we’re counting on you?”
Does Tom ever. This was the only thing he’d ever be trusted with that was important to her.
“Yes, mother.”
Eliza huffed, sitting back and crossing one leg over the other. “Tell me the plan again, then.”
Tom shuffled to face her, his head lowering so his eyes were trained on the floor and not her stare. His thumbs wrestled as he recounted the thoughts he was trying to run away from.
“Tonight, I will meet the prince of Larzinnia. I’m going to shadow him for the next month, and befriend him. And then, when the time comes, I’m going to assassinate him.”
Eliza smiled approvingly, as if she’d successfully programmed a code into Tom. He wasn’t human to her, not like her son should be.
“You’ll risk anything for it, correct?”
“Even your life, Thomas.” Timothy chimed in.
Tom’s black eyes pinned on Timothy, hating his privilege with every fiber of his being.
“...Even my life.”
~
"One two, one two! And-!"
The conductor cut themself off with a flare in their wrist, motioning their hands in elegant swings. The orchestra began to play a sophisticated upbeat song, welcoming the handfuls of nobles and aristocrats walking into the ballroom. Heaven knows they were wearing their money's worth in their tuxes and dresses.
Tord sat on his throne in the back of the ballroom, beside his father and mother's thrones. Queen Kjersti was sitting next to Tord, her dark eyes dull and fixed on the dance floor. She was wearing one of her prettiest masks today- a light square of fabric hung from her ears to cover her mouth. Tord resembled his mother a great deal- they matched their horned fluffy hair, their complexion, even thin body composition.
Tord's father, King Egil, was out, however. He was standing beside the stage, talking to his personal council. Egil was what a proper king looked like, big and burly with dark rough hair. He had scars from battle littered all over his body, a huge crown and cape, and an outfit filthy with jewels. He even had a damn beard, which of course Tord was jealous of, he couldn't grow one to save his life.
The prince finally stopped beating himself up about it, slouching in his throne as he watched the guests socialize.
"Any minute, Edd..." he murmured under his breath, tapping his cheek. Egil gave him a gesturing nod towards the front, his brows set firmly. That was his special way of telling Tord to get off his ass.
Tord sighed and stood up, walking down the steps off the stage. His gold boots thudded each descent, his cape fluttering behind him. The subjects couldn't peel their eyes off the prince.
Tord reached the ends of his steps, looking towards the crowd to see if there was anyone worth talking to. Some of the families nudged their daughters to approach Tord, but they were frozen.
Tord was left standing alone, surrounded by an audience of loyal subjects, all staring in awe of any move he made.
'This is the worst,' he thought, feeling awkward as he started to stomp his way back to the throne.
But just then, the doors to the ballroom swung open, revealing the guest of the night.
Tord's eyes widened, back straightening as he faced the entrance.
"King Edward!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms open. He trotted towards the new king, who bellowed a laugh and embraced him. Edd was gorgeous- wearing his new kingly outfit made of forest green and sweet rose gold, his crown seemingly 10x bigger than the tiny tiara he used to have. His chocolate hair was still soft and messy, he'd never change that.
Tord laughed as he pulled away from Edd, looking up at him with sparkling familiarity.
"Holy shit Edd, you're a king!"
Edd sullied yet another laugh, nodding. "That's right prince~ watch your language, might start a war with you~"
Tord snickered and punched Edd in the arm, which respectively all of Edd's guards readied their swords. "Woah-! I was kidding-" Tord laughed, raising his hands in surrender. Edd chucked along, signaling them to calm down.
Tord propped his hands on his hips, gesturing his head to the party. "Boring, huh?"
"Oh, don't say that~ I just arrived after all, and the Rocksonians are almost here~" Edd purred, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Oh right .. The Rocksonians. Why did you even bother with them? The first thing you did when you became king was officialize a bond between Galdinnia and Rocksonia, but why?"
Edd smiled, giving a friendly shrug. "They're good people with good trade opportunities. Plus, you've never known adventure until you've been to their island~"
Tord gave a small scoff, rolling his eyes with a smile. "I bet it's not really all that."
"It definitely is." "Uh-huh." "Yeah huh."
The two friends chuckled, forgetting the weight of everyone's eyes on them for this moment. But it was short-lived, the doors to the ballroom opening for the final time. In had arrived the foreigners.
Eliza was the first to step forward, her smile so sweet and maternal. She waved to the people, her eyes lidded with pleasantry. She had short brown hair to complement her silver tiara and a thin-styled blue dress that was boggling to see on a queen. Timothy was wearing traditional Rocksonian attire along with Tom- a leather vest with white stuffy fur collars, and a pair of studded earrings. Tim's was bright, while Tom's was dark, accenting his role as the shadow.
Tord made a whistle. 'What a heap of losers.'
Edd turned to his invited guests, raising his arms once more. "Queen Eliza! Oh wow, what an honor it is to see you!"
He approached the lady and held out his hand to accept hers, placing a kiss on the back of her gloved knuckles. She made a small humored chuckle, nodding along to his words.
"It's an honor to even be here, Edward. What beautiful decorum!” She squealed, holding her cheek as she gazed towards the scene. The ballroom was huge, strung with crystals and candles and chandeliers, the music swarming the room and making it feel alive. The large open space between the entrance and the thrones was full of beautiful people who weren’t as powerful as a king but were much better than a peasant. Knights lined up beside the dance floor, ready to protect if anything went wrong.
Tord didn’t think it was that special, but judging by Eliza’s face, maybe he was wrong.
Edd tilted his head, “Eliza, might I ask where king Calian is?”
“Oh, my husband fell ill on the boat ride here,” She said wistfully, frowning dearly as she looked to the floor. “He can’t even stand right now. My poor love. He’s at the stay you prepared for us, Edward.”
Edd frowned with her, giving her shoulder a consoling hold. “Oh, Eliza, don’t worry. He'll be back on his feet in no time- but for right now, I suppose we shall have to dance together~?” Edd grinned as he took Eliza’s hand, which made her giggle.
Tord cringed, ‘No fucking way did Edd just flirt with this 30-something-year old-woman.’ Tord was getting ready to step back and return to his throne when Edd tugged him back by the cape.
“Oh, I almost forgot! Tord, I wanted to introduce you to these esteemed princes.” Edd turned Tord by the shoulders to face the family, the prince looking up at the foreigners with wide eyes.
Tom’s pitch black eyes sized Tord up and down. He seemed to be the most sluggish prince he’d ever met. But Tom kept composure in the back, knowing by now that if he made a move before his mother and brother he’d get screwed over.
“Tord, this is Queen Eliza of Rocksonia. Eliza, this is the prince of Larzinnia, Tord Larzin the third.”
Tord gave a sheepish smile. “How do you do?”
Eliza chuckled, holding her hand over her mouth. “I do quite well, prince. This is a lovely kingdom you have.”
Tord nodded, feeling the awkwardness build up. “C-Cool.”
Edd gestured towards Timothy, “Tord, this is the first prince and the upcoming king of Rocksonia, Timothy.”
Timothy smirked and outstretched his hand for a handshake. “It’s quite a pleasure to meet you, Tord. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Tord completely missed the hint and laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “Oh really? I know Edd’s quite a shit talker, but trust me, it’s only half true~” he joked, snickering. Everyone cringed at Tord’s sudden swear use but him. Edd regretted this already.
“Er, yeah. And this is the second prince, Thomas.”
Tom stepped forward only by a few inches, his cold black eyes staring down at Tord. He kept his hands behind his back, his posture perfect. Tord’s expression dropped when he finally looked at the other prince, staring into his otherworldly eyes.
He'd never seen something like it, ever. It was bewitching.
“What’s wrong with your eyes?”
Tom’s expression darkened. He clenched his fists and scoffed.
“What’s wrong with your hair?”
Now it was Tord’s turn to be offended.
“This is heritage, duh! You eyeless freak-”
Everyone in the room was completely dumbfounded when the two princes began to spit insults at each other, the two not breaking for an instant even when powerful thudding was approaching them. Tord stilled his voice when King Egil rested his heavy hand on his shoulder.
“Prince, I think it’s time you took an absence from the party.”