A blind man could have spotted Charlie's discomfort from a mile away.

The way he shifted from one foot to another, a deer caught in the sights of a hungry poacher and desperate to find a way out of the jaws of death. Yet by all accounts, it appeared there was no line of escape.

His instincts were screaming at the young boy to get out of here, and not just for his own sake.

Someone unused to the sight, may have thought he was a beggar boy who stumbled into the palace much by accident. Bags were bellow his eyes and his skin clung to his cheeks like fur to the body of a soaked rat.

Even in a time where war ravaged the land and starved the people of most resources. No son of the King had any right to look like this, and he stuck out like a sore thumb because of it. It felt like every set of eyes were fixed on him.

Most of them had only heard rumours about who he was, what he had become.

Yet fear didn't seem to be their primary response to this, they regarded him as though he was a circus animal. A form of entertainment, to be enjoyed if not slightly frightened by when it roared or went to bite its handler.

It appeared as though it was a lesson they would have to be taught in person if they were to learn to fear him.

Charlie was terrified to the very bone that this might be what happened.

Beside him stood his two brothers. Both of whom looked just as nervous as Charlie did, if not surpassing it. Only they appeared outwardly to be much more frustrated by what they were expected to do.

"I just don't like this," it was Robert who spoke. Much braver then his two younger brothers, eyes dancing from side to side. He too shifted from side to side, more feral than Charlie could ever remember seeing.

On the other hand Arthur was much stiller then his siblings. His lip dented inwards where he was furrowing a tooth into it. He barely seemed to notice the tiny wound he left in his flesh, as though determined to distract himself from the world around him.

The three brothers stood on the far wall before a great set of tables. Piled high with more food then any of them could remember seeing before. Despite not having eaten that day, none of them moved to steal something or take a bite. They were paralysed with fear, and not because of the boy standing beside them.

Charlie didn't bother to respond to his brother's words, his eyes fixed on the wall opposite them. Doing everything in his power to think about anything else, but it was counter active as now all he seemed to think of was how scared he felt.

"You don't have to like it," a voice from the other side of the hall sounded. "Just get on with it."

It was the Queen entering the hall, Violet at her side she passed the tables without acknowledging those who sat at them. All of whom had lifted themselves to their feet in respect of the monarch.

She came to stand beside her three sons, Violet following like a shadow at her side. The young girl regarded her brothers with an equally nervous look, though said nothing. Stopping to the left of Charlie, between him and Arthur.

On the surface they appeared to be a normal little family, neat, formal and sweet looking.

Even if the truth was anything but.

Now all they needed to do was wait for the King, who Charlie was unable to smell anywhere no matter how hard he tried. The young boy shifted uncomfortably again, gritting his teeth to direct his emotions somewhere. It didn't matter where.

A hand on his shoulder told him that the Queen had reached to touch him, unable to say anything aloud. His father's worst fear was the showing of emotion in front of the people. He preferred they appear gods to be worshipped then people to be loved.

He said nothing, barely daring to breathe for fear that would make him lose it. He gently leaned against his mother's hand, but didn't look at her. The only thing he could think to do was stay completely silent, he feared anything else would end only in disaster.

It appeared that he was not the only one with this fear playing on his mind.

A few days had passed since Charlie had finally regained movement in his legs, and those hours had been filled with rehabilitation. Attempts to make him able to walk again, in time for this dinner.

For a while it had appeared that he would never regain control of his legs by himself. At night he'd had no problems, but staying in that state just to ensure that he would be able to walk was hardly an option worth considering.

Part of him felt that he should have been happy that he could walk again, play with his brothers. Be a kid again.

But something else made happiness seem like an impossibility.

His father had insisted that all of his children appear on this day.

No matter what the risks associated with it would be.

Yet it was his father who was yet to make an appearance, and it was making every one of them nervous. Wondering what on earth could have been keeping the King away, on this most important of days.

His words, Charlie added inwardly, his eyes dancing across the hall as he took in as much of it as he could. It was his first time outside of the four walls of his hospital room, at least in conscious memory, and he was intent on making as much of it as he could.

Even if now he was looking at the world without the rose tinted glasses he was used to until before...

The event that changed his life forever.

Yet before his brain had the chance to get too clogged up with fears and pain again, the sound of trumpets echoed through the hall from outside the doors. And the great doors leading into the room were dragged open with ease.

Revealing on the other side the King in all his glory.

A waist coat clung close to the King's muscular form, and he was clean shaven unlike the last couple of times Charlie had seen his father. Around his shoulders was the cloak in the royal colours of navy blue and white, and upon his brow a crown.

Every set of eyes were on the King, and no one waivered as they stared at the sight.

Yet the King acknowledged none of them, he stepped into the room and made his way towards his wife and children. The cloak dragging behind him, only adding to the dramatic sight of the monarch.

His steps were thunderous on the tile floor of the room, each step like a giant had banged a drum. A thunder clap more than it was a footstep, he demanded attention even from those who didn't want to give it.

At last the King reached the platform upon which his wife and children were waiting, and stepped onto it, now in silence. First he went to his wife and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then each of his children.

Charlie pretended not to hear what his mother said as he kissed her.

"This isn't a good idea," she hissed just loud enough for him to hear. At least that had been what she'd hoped.

But the King ignored her, and instead took his seat.

Then and only then did the four children take their own seats in silence.

Amongst the four, no one seemed to dare even take a breath as they waited with quiet curiosity mixed with apparent terror. Every inch of Charlie's small body was on edge, and he was fighting against something much stronger to keep control.

A losing battle that he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up.

Lifetimes seemed to have passed before the King at last spoke, his tone was unreadable even to those who knew him the best. Regardless of how few felt they could count themselves among that number.

"I assume you all know the reason why I called you here today."

No one spoke, as no one did.

The King had decided this was the prime moment to take the first bite of his food, he chewed slowly, as though contemplating something. Yet the members of his family knew better then to assume this was innocent.

Every movement the King made was done with intent and knowledge of the likely outcomes.

All of this was a performance, planned carefully and with great aforethought. To the smallest details and with the utmost care. Every movement was formal and planned, Charlie knew this much, but he didn't know what the reason was.

Most of the Kingdom already knew the truth of what had happened, and how many had died. They all carried themselves with a certain level of caution around the young boy, as though scared the very smell of their breath would give him reason to lose it.

The most terrifying thing to Charlie was that he didn't know if it could.

Practically every doctor the kingdom knew of, had come to inspect the young boy. All of whom had come up with the same conclusion, that something had gone terribly wrong during the surgery and as a result the young child suffered from brain damage.

And no one knew how to fix it, if it ever could be fixed.

For all Charlie knew, and it was his worst fear that this might be the truth, he was stuck like this.

But he was distracted from his thoughts when at last the King swallowed, and opened his mouth to speak again. "It may have escaped the notice of some of you," the sarcasm dripped from his voice but the amusement was still there in spite of this. "But this Kingdom has been at war for a few years now."

A few were brave enough to nod at this, but no one spoke otherwise. Even in the face of blatant insults, no one dared to question the King's words, or challenge him from the cruelty behind his tone.

"I believe, I may now be capable of negotiating peace."

These words were ones that pretty much no one had expected. And the surprise lit pretty much every face in the room.

Very few seemed to believe it, but almost everyone wanted to. Hope seemed to brighten in every pair of eyes across the room, that this long lasting and ravaging war might actually come to an end.

They had lost many people, and the idea that the death toll might at last come to a halt had felt like a fantasy to a lot of them for the longest time.

But now their King might hold the key to peace for them, and not one of them were willing to give that up. No matter what the cost turned out to be, the chance of peace was worth almost anything to all of them.

Not one of them had been left unaffected by the war, and they had all lost something.

Charlie was no becoming more and more aware of how tired everyone here looked. People he had known, even if only in acquaintance since his youth, looked exhausted and pained. Some showed signs of wounds, others showed more subtle signs.

Peace was a commodity, and they were all willing to give their lives to ensure it once and for all.

"Most of you will know by now, as rumours spread like wildfire in this place, that something has happened to my youngest son Charlie." He spoke as though with true concern and sadness, even Charlie was unable to smell the lie from half a metre away.

"Whilst it is not we intended," the King continued. Despite the sigh to his tone of voice, Charlie knew better than to think there was a true sadness in him. Even at a young age, he wasn't as naive as most might have assumed. "I believe we can pull through this."

Even the four children were hopeful at the sound of their father's words. Most of their lives had been overwhelmed with the presence of war, but they all knew the stories of times of peace and heroes. Where lives were happier in comparison to this hell.

Their father had always spoken as though they would each grow up to be soldiers, but now their options had the possibility to vary. They might be able to do something outside of the war which had dominated their lives.

Part of Charlie began to wonder what use he could have, now he was what he was.

"My son has the potential to become a soldier like no other," The King finished. Charlie felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. "One whose very existence will be enough to deter all war to come."

He seems to think all of this was purposeful, Charlie gritted his teeth.

"And if not, he will be the soldier to end it."