James

Happiness is a complete absurdity at this point.

Why can't I just have one normal day in this family? Just one day where I can sit back and just breathe.

Sadly I don't think that will ever happen as being part of a royal family. Chaos is our middle name.

A perfect example would be today as I am forced to leave Odessa's bedside to attend a ridiculous meeting about another banquet, as if we need it, but Father doesn't seem to care.
He just wants to keep our relationship with other countries strong because after what happened with Prince Nicolai.

As I pace in, there is no one except Father reading the newspaper.
My breathing tightens as I rasp on the door.

He grunts a reply, his reading glasses slipping off his face.
Fixing them and now looking up to see me, he looks bitter.

"Sit down" is all he says and slowly I motion forward to a tight navy plush cushioned seat.
Instantly when I sit, the cushion ways down underneath me.
I place my hands down first so I can sit on them as they will not show my shaking as I listen to Father's wrath.

Perhaps it's the bright lighting in this room or the mutual understanding that he could have killed me over this mishap that makes me feel like the intruder.

He only tosses over the newspaper. The headline on the broadsheet reads 'Prince James doesn't make the cut'

"It seems that after your little encounter with Prince Nicolai they have decided to cut us off with trading" He snarls, not looking at me as he gingerly twirls his fingers on the ring of his glass full of rich scotch.

"It seems that you are getting the public's attention for all the wrong reasons..."
I can only gulp, petrified to even look directly into his eyes.

"You just don't know when to stop, do you James?"

Suddenly my heart pounds.
Do I answer or just let the silence speak for itself.
Do I look at him or do I just stare down at the carpet?

So many thoughts run through my mind until Father hammers his fist hard on the wooden table.

"How dare you act like a disgrace as this family. You have gone too far and I can only imagine the effects your actions will take if you keep this up... I'm asking to step down"

I stop. I think my tongue has frozen and speech is impossible, so I am surprised to hear myself answer back,
"You mean...g-g-give up the throne?" My hands and legs shake and I feel sweat sticking to the back of my neck.

I should be relieved by this but hearing Father request it seems ten times worse.

"Yes I am asking you to step down, and stop with your stuttering goddamnit" He pounds his fist again on the table. He shakes the scotch in his glass and the table legs wobble.

"But I do have a proposal for you..."
He let the words slip gingerly as he gets up from his chair.

My face must show a flicker of bewilderment as he steps closer.

I tell myself to breath as he comes closer, as I listen to my heart hammering furiously. My fingers twitch in fast motion against the carved, straight-backed chair.

"I want you to end all this strife against the Southern Isles and make an apology speech on the Report next week"

It takes a moment for his last sentence to sink in. I repeat his words again as he stands before me, his placid expression droning me with fear.
Then the full weight of it hits me.

He cannot be serious.

I can only stutter a slow response.
"What do I say?"

He passes me a eggshell white envelope with a royal red emblem.

"I had it prepared the day after the incident. It's five pages long and it gives a simple apology and how you want to help build both of our economies and they will receive compensation for this incident"

I'm taken aback by the directness and even the sincerity of his voice.

As I hold the envelope, many thoughts swarm around my head making me feel dizzy. I don't know how I dare say the next few words but I do.

"But no one seems to have noticed how Odessa is feeling about this"

There's a long pause while he examines me. Then he simply remarks, "Well I wanted her to apology but the casting vote was for you to read it out, a sense of masculinity would make it more appreciated"

"But Father surely they should be apologising I mean I saw Odessa that night and let me tell you she was about to-" I blurt out but I am interrupted.

"That's enough James!" He barks but I stand my ground.

"Are you feeling me I must apologise for something that makes no sense? Besides Nicolai should be apologising, he was the one to attack Odessa and-"

Right before I can end my little speech, Father motions forward and grips his hands tightly around my neck and lifts me up a few centimetres off the ground.

Gasping for breath as I try to loosen his grip as he whispers into my ear, "Now you listen here, I want none of this. You are apologising or else I will make you live through your worst nightmare, do I make myself clear"

I try to nod under his control but his grip is so tight I can barely breathe.
I choke out a yes and instantly he lets go of his grip, dropping my frail body to the floor.

Crippling to the ground, I manage to retain my breathing before three guards rush in.

"Your highness, sorry to disturb you but there is news of a riot at a bakery and it is out of control! We were told to send you to see if it could be sorted"

The guards stare down at me as I try to control my frantic breathing and flinching, not daring to ask what has happened.

"He choked on a toffee" Father grumbles to the guards and they nod. They leave to gather up their troops and to prepare the carriage for us.

With shaky breathing I hold on to the table to get up, not daring to look up at Father who seems to be judging my every move.

He grips my right arm firmly and mutters "We will deal with this later" before he walks off.

I am quivering like a leaf after his encounter.

I am surprised to see him turn back to the door and say,
"Come on, we better get a move on or else there will be more chaos in this bloody mess"

* * * * * *

We slog to Erivale in silence as the horses trot through the dirty outback.

There is a smell to Erivale that I often enjoy whenever I visit.

Mostly it smells of people and all the things that people produce (this does not refer to art or culture but rather the waste that is dumped out of windows in buckets).
But there are other smells that always manage to linger through, always shifting rapidly from street to street, building to building.
The heady whiff of a bakery followed by an unexpected flush of gardenias in a garden or even the smell of the iron-ruche pong of a slaughterhouse.

Erivale is nothing if not alive- Every inch of the town always has a smell.
It all smells of life, life in every form and degree.

The smells today are a bit too strong and also a bit unusual.

It is as if it smells of disarray and chaos.

As we edge closer to the town centre we can see a large crowd gathering. Husky voices and loud booms collide together as they bombard remarks and thunderous observations.

People shove through as they try to steal bread.
Guards push them away, warning them to back away or else they will face serious consequences.

The guards in front of us try to draw the crowd to a halt, erupting harsh explosive demands.

Men, woman and children all gather around a small brick building, all crowded around as people storm in stealing as much as they can.

A blonde haired man with piercings stands on a barrel holding a tattered flag of Erivale.

"We want freedom, we want respect, we want the dignity we need!
Let us stand up and fight against this madness!
Our children are starving, our men are sent off to fight and what are we left with, only a lousy pay and no food to feed our families"

The crowd suddenly erupts into cheers.
Father urges me to rush out of the carriage.
I can smell mildew and rot and burning as I step out in my fine suit seeing my people dressed in rags.

Once we step out we receive dark glares and an echoing silence rings throughout.
The heroic young man stops and stares, startled to see us here.

We don't stop walking until we reach the centre of the crowd in the glaring sun.
As my eyes adjust I see neglected buildings to my right and left.
Around me it is packed with people but this is just a mere fraction of the population.

"What is the meaning of this?" Father's voice booms throughout.

"We need food!" A voice cries.
"We are starving"

Father pays no need to their cries as he looks around.
He steadily paces himself up to the front if the bakery, where all the rioting has stopped.

A burnt piece of bread is on the ground collecting dirt. He bends over and picks it up.

Rising his voice, he says "I will not let my people go hungry! As citizens of Erivale, you shall be liable to overcome this wrath of fury and anguish. You may eat! Let my people eat!"

At first there is only silence as people try to grasp what he has just said. Even I am left speechless.
This is not the man I know.

But soon, one by one, they start clapping slowly. Even the blonde man who stands on the barrel cheers as he waves his flag.

As the crowd registers what is happening, they celebrate and march forward to the bakery, all handling the precious bread as they pass it amongst the crowd.

Father receives a few thank yous and even a few pats of the backs and curtsies but for me, something isn't right.

I look and see Father eyeing a few guards before he ushers me to the carriage.

As we make it the carriage, a shiver runs up my spine.
My body reacts before my mind as I turn to rush to the crowd.

But I can do nothing as I look in horror as a pair of guards drag the young man onto the ground and make him kneel.

Before I can even process what is going on they put a bullet through hishead.


:וk+

Have a nice day and please tell me what you think of this chapter, it would mean a lot! :D

Also damn Jack Falahee,you mighty fine human being! You always make me smile with your beauty...anyways enjoy!