𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐊𝐘 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒. As the crickets began chirping along with with first buzz of cicadas near street lights, the gradual decline of what light remained took its hint and followed suit, the first stars emerging in the dusky evening, sharp shadows of lanterns dancing in the streets of individuals hurrying home.

The air damp and the initial warmth of the day subsiding, the weather ebbed into a comforting breeze, the faintest light shining through the leaves, the early evening lull gracing the streets. Some pubs had shuttered their doors for the evening, but the most prominent remained open to the public, and in some streets remained the only visible life between dwindling shops as their owners mingled, several vendors chatting amongst themselves as they gathered their belongings after a busy day.

He sat on the balcony amid the welcome dimming amber glow, that time of slower thoughts arriving with its accompanying moments when with open eyes the mind becomes as a perfect empty horizon, seeing yet content to sit. The book in his hands threatened to fall to the ground, his grip loosening as he continued to gaze at the dwindling activity in the street below him, a stray thought occupying his mind.

A series of knocks startled him, although he quickly realized the rhythm and tone of the knocks and hastily called for the person to come in, instinctively adjusting his posture and closing the book without thinking.

Sometimes he envied commoners, for they seemed to be the only ones with true peace of mind.

Talil gave a warm smile as he caught sight of Pabu, longtime friend and respected herald, the former standing to greet the man, the latter shaking his head with a chuckle as he denied the handshake and instead moving for a hug.

"It has only been a few weeks, Pabu," Talil said with a laugh as he affectionately returned the hug, "You have had longer trips than this, don't you remember?"

"Of course I remember," the bearded man defended, releasing his hold and affectionately cuffing Talil on the shoulder, "Now, tell me everything I have missed, I am desperate for a little excitement, you know how Rael is, nothing could bring a smile on his face."

"I'm sure you've tried," Talil hummed, moving to sit back outside on the balcony, his book suddenly out of sight, out of mind, "Anyway, it isn't just the way you speak of Rael, he's a noble man."

Pabu sighed, choosing to sit beside the prince as opposed to defending himself right away, stretching his legs so they came to rest on the royal's lap, the latter rolling his eyes but saying nothing. "He may be noble, but it's difficult to follow under him when he doesn't want any humor while we're working," he whined.

"And you know me," the herald tried, seeing as how Talil's face still showed a look of judgement, the prince giving a smile a few moments later because he knew how his friend felt, he really did, and although he knew it was improper to disrespect a superior by talking in such a way he couldn't help but agree with Pabu—as the head of their sector, Rael really didn't have a sense of humor of any kind, especially while working.

"With that mouth of yours, I'm surprised Rael puts up with you at all," a voice drawled from the room, the sound carrying to the outside space.

Talil turned his head behind him to the voice of Beatrice Ceros, another friend and equally respected armorer, the woman leaning against her spear and wearing a tired smile, Pabu giving a roar of delight as he spotted his friend, rushing up from his seat to dashing over to give a tender hug, the woman chuckling in amusement as she returned the gesture.

"Pabu, you haven't been gone for that long," she pointed out, prying herself out of the man's grip, "Is this really necessary?"

"That's what I said," Talil interjected bluntly, loud enough for her to hear, and they shared a look, the former striding over to give her a hug of his own.

"Ah, the sensible one," Beatrice joked as she linked arms with the prince, the trio moving to sit back on the balcony, the sun having now fully set.

Pabu gasped in mock astonishment, his hand flying to his heart, "I'm hurt!" he exclaimed, the woman waving him off, moving to sit on the arm of his chair.

"How was your trip?" she asked, and he perked up, glad the subject had finally arrived, the other two listening to their friend as he told of his latest trip as a knight's assistant to bring a fairly new neighboring kingdom news of the infamous peace treaty between Nekhen and Asgard, as well as a warning of caution, heeding the king against conflict of any kind against the Allfather, advising them to sign a treaty of their own, lest they become yet another victim of the ruler's brutal conquest.

Although their people aged fairly slowly, the incident had occured thousands of years prior to Talil's birth—far before any of them were born, really—his father telling of the bloody events through secondary stories, ones he had heard from his father, who had grown up with the stories passed down from generation to generation. The initial king who had initially issued the first version of the treaty had soon died from unknown causes after his troubles, but his son later managed to draft a revision, with terms and conditions that better suited their people, better crafted to their needs.

The Avaris Massacre was a historical event taught in schools all over Nekhen, children growing up with the knowledge of the brutality and cruelty that resulted in the kingdom's refusal to submit to the Allfather's conquest that began to stretch beyond the nine realms. Out of the blue, something had changed Odin's mind, Nekhen's king at the time offering a peace treaty that, among other stipulations offered the Allfather an annual pension—Nekhen's payment to end the violence and death that had no real purpose in the first place.

Talil couldn't help but despise Odin for what he had done to his people—and for good reason—the kingdom suffering greatly for quite some time, having to rearrange the state's income and adjust certain assets in order to fulfill the quota, the council being the first to offer their pay, as well as several other government officials.

Even now, Nekhen was still paying the price—while fear of another invasion had mellowed as of late, there was still cause for concern, and the kingdom's older generation who had been young when the event transpired were particularly fervent and frightened of a repeat of history.

"The king seemed relieved we came, and imagine if we hadn't, there might be a repeat of the Avaris Massacre," Pabu concluded, a look of pride on his face, a mirror of his expression on his friends' faces as well.

"Might?" Beatrice challenged, rolling her eyes, "Odin isn't exactly one for the benefit of the doubt, he wouldn't hesitate to gain control of another realm."

"I wonder why he granted us the peace treaty, he isn't the type of man to reach a compromise," Talil wondered aloud, his friends nodding their agreement.

"Frigga probably convinced him, she's very kind and understanding," Beatrice hummed, beginning to braid a portion of Pabu's hair, the latter only grinning when his friend cast him a knowing look, "I wonder how the family is fairing now that she's gone, wasn't the adoptive prince very fond of her?"

Pabu scoffed at the question, raising a hand to feel the partly formed braid, "They were all fond of her, Bea, she was his mother, a part of the family."

"Some families disregard the notion of superiority of kinship," Beatrice countered, pausing to glare at the top of the herald's head, "Don't you remember? Prince Loki was adopted, and he was still as much a brother to Thor, or a son to Odin."

The trio paused, the air in the room suddenly becoming still and silent as they thought of the man's death, extending when they realized a servant had entered, Beatrice blushing furiously as the woman placed a tray of tea on the table in front of them, giving a small smile as she did so, casting a glance at Beatrice before hurrying off.

"Why won't you talk to her?" Pabu demanded bluntly, looking up at Beatrice, his eyes wide with curiosity and confusion, evidently oblivious of her tense body language.

"I can speak with her, if you like," Talil offered, his voice an octave softer, noticing how his friend cast her eyes away from the conversation, her cheeks a bright red, "Darielle is sweet, you would like each other."

The woman laughed lightly, her cheeks still tinted pink, as if embarrassed to reveal her fondness of the servant, "If only, but I don't even know if she is fond of women."

"An easy solution!" Pabu exclaimed, turning his head to look up at her, his excitement causing her to laugh once more, "We can find out for you, Bea, this is perfect!"

"Maybe," Beatrice promised, hiding a smile at the possibility, the two men sharing a look of excitement and happiness for thsir friend, glad she might have found someone she was fond of.

The conversation dulled, Talil gazing over the kingdom as a sigh of appreciation and content escaped his lips, Beatrice continuing the play with Pabu's hair, the latter leaning into her touch as she ran her fingers through it, the trio each deep in their own thoughts as they simply enjoyed each other's presence.

○ ○ ○

"Are you going somewhere, Your Majesty?"

Talil jumped from where he was seated on the ottoman, in the act of pulling on his shoes, to find Darielle hovering awkwardly near the door, her hands clasped and resting in front of her. He didn't suppose she had been standing there long, but was glad to see her nonetheless, due to his conversation with Beatrice the previous day.

Of course, he would never say anything without Bea's permission, he wasn't that sort of person.

"Just going for a walk," he answered, giving her a small smile as he finished tugging on his shoes, indicating that she should come in, the servant doing so after a moment's hesitation, moving to sit on the edge of the prince's bed.

"The royal supper is this afternoon," Darielle reminded him, Talil giving a small groan before he realized who he was with, immediately blushing.

"I'm sorry," he said, moving to sit next to her, noticing how her body tensed slightly, being careful to sit a respectful distance away, "I'm just...not very fond of them, I suppose."

"It's alright if you aren't," she assured him quietly, her gaze fixed on his lap, "You might be heir to the throne, but you are a person as well, with preferences and dislikes. In all honesty, I would be surprised if you did enjoy it."

"You would?" he said, surprised at her blunt comment, but pleased she felt the same way; it wasn't often he found someone who disagreed with opinions of royal traditions.

Darielle colored and focusing on her lap, fiddling with her fingers, "I've served the supper quite a few times, and it certainly doesn't appear to be something enjoyable, not to mention your restlessness when they take place."

Now it was Talil's turn to blush, because he had always thought he did an alright job at feigning interest; it seemed to fool his parents and the council, at the very least, to perhaps it wasn't the worst job, but he felt embarrassed she had become aware of it.

It seemed impossible he could come to rule with responsibilities double what he was familiar with now if attending such a simple event made him uncomfortable; he was the heir to the throne, yet he was unable to sit through a simple royal supper,

"I don't believe anyone else has noticed," Darielle reassured him quietly, raising her head to look at him, his gripped hands loosening their hold, an involuntary and distinguishable sigh of relief escaping his lips.

"How did you know?" Talil questioned, mentally double-checking if he could be hiding anything that would be unfair for the people to know; he thought he was doing a good job of keeping to himself, while still attempting to be as sincere as possible, although it clearly was not as acceptable as he imagined.

If anything, he was an open book.

A person his kingdom could look up to and trust, with no secrets of any kind seemed to benefit others before himself; after all, was it necessary to tell the people his every thought and opinion, a need to show he was not corrupt or dishonorable, simply an heir who housed his own beliefs and views? Yes, his people did not deserve to be lied to, but perhaps a certain level of transparency could be attained while still maintaining enough privacy.

"I am a servant, it is easy to notice others when you are not noticed yourself," she explained, and he understood why she was hesitant to tell him such things.

As a servant, her job was to go about her duties, her presence seen but not heard, but he found the mindset a bit ridiculous— servants were people, just as the king and himself, if pressed, he found no reason they should not be able to consult them if a stalemate had been reached, as, while the council did posses a vast knowledge of political affairs, after years of overhearing their conversations, perhaps there was another angle to be considered.

"Do you enjoy it?" Talil asked abruptly, oblivious of her body tensing at the question, "Being a servant, that is."

Darielle's breath hitched, her eyes darting between the prince and the door, dubious to give both a truthful and socially acceptable answer, "I do," she said finally, taking a deep breath, "I have a place to live and enough food to eat, and I am able to send money to my family. It is an honor to serve Nekhen. So yes, I am happy."

The woman rose and made her way toward the partially closed, pausing in the doorway to look over her shoulder at the prince, who had fixated his gaze on his hands, deep in thought. She sighed before turning around and closing the door behind her as she left, shaking her head at the burdens of an heir, a small part of her glad she was a simple servant.

It was a while before Talil gathered himself together and went for his walk.

Part of him wished he had company, as he knew his parents, his mother in particular, might object to him walking by himself in the market place, but he was not stupid, he took care to dress as plainly as possible, for he only wished to enjoy the scenery of his kingdom before being subject to the royal supper.

Although he enjoyed the affair when he was younger—granted, he did not know not care the reason for gathering, he simply appreciated he was requested to attend—he couldn't say the same thing now, for it was hours of etiquette and formal conversation, eyes watching him like a hawk as he ate and spoke, the entire affair far too proper for his liking.

In the midmorning light, the tepid breeze that washed over his skin and the marketplace like the tide advanced comfortably in some places, retreating in others. Some vendors had set up tents to block off the sun, and he found the shade underneath pleasant when he purchased an apple, placing a single gold coin on his cart, the man reaching for the heir's change, Talil waving him off.

But before he was able to enjoy the scenery with his snack, a horse and its rider galloping into the square, the rider removing his helmet, revealing Rael.

"Rael?" he asked, briskly walking towards the harker, "What is going on, you are making a scene—"

"Pardon me, Your Majesty," he interrupted, partly out of breath, leaning downwards to speak quietly, "Odin has invaded the neighboring kingdom of Tobruk—"

The prince gasped, staggering a step back, placing a hand over his mouth in disbelief, not even bothering to hide his expression from the townspeople, "How is that possible, I thought they were allies, why would Odin do such a thing?"

Rael sighed, running a hand over his beard, glancing toward the townspeople who were now whispering their concern across the square, "With a man like Odin, it was bound to happen."

Rael readjusted positioning on his horse, the crowd immediately hushing as he did so, the man announcing the news of the invasion, with instruction from the king and queen to return to homes at once, many shouting in horror and in anger, the majority grabbing their children by the hand and running out of the public square.

Even with all the commotion around him, Talil stayed rooted on the spot, a look of horror featured on his face.

Odin was far from the benevolent ruler he was made out to be, and neighboring kingdoms were paying the price for his greed.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

Sorry this chapter wasn't much, we'll see Thor and Odin later on but I want to solidify Talil's relationship with his friends and the burden he bears and how he feels about it, all the while contrasted to what he thinks he's supposed to feel like.

Thanks for reading!