King Augustus woke to his alarm, the blaring sound of a siren. When Rose had gone missing, he'd slept longer and longer until he didn't wake until woken. And so, he'd set his alarm. He'd already lost his Queen the year before, Rose's mother, to a disease so great it had swallowed half his kingdom.

      A glance over to his daughter's bed, the dishevelled sheets, the crushed pillow, and he wiped his eyes with his fingers. Knocking his alarm off, Augustus rose and got dressed into his red and golden robe. He had a kingdom announcement that morning. Something about corn prices and unfair treatment of farmers, he'd long since decided to wing his speeches. Making them up on the spot made them more truthful.

      As he was leaving his bedroom, he quickly ran through the question he was to be answering: What do you think of the corn prices? Are they too high?

      He knew his answer as well as he knew his face in the mirror, the prices were not too high, quite possibly too low, and the farmers needed more income if they were ever to raise healthy families. There was almost no money in it anymore - barely enough for one life, never mind more - and many had taken up jobs elsewhere, in the more industrial parts of the kingdom. The parts Augustus didn't even want there.

      Walking down corridor after dying, darkening corridor, the king found his way to the balcony overlooking his kingdom. "People," he started powerfully. "You have asked and I have answered." He took a breath before continuing, this could go horribly wrong. "The corn prices you complain about are nothing if not too low." Too many horrified gasps from below, too many to hold back with his army he kept so small. "I shall not increase them now, I shall leave them as they are, but hear this! To all you who complained, is your wage not ten times bigger than the price you pay for corn? That price you pay is all those farmers have. To keep your money to yourself is to kill." Most seemed satisfied but he could feel the tension, even from above them, as they asked themselves where his money was. "To keep the prices from increasing, I shall give every farmer two pound each week for a month, for them to do as they wish. If conditions do not better themselves, I shall do what I can to sort them, but I will lend them no more money. Remember this, for it is your future."

      He refused to walk away immediately, as most other leaders did, but instead stood, watching, waiting for input from his people. The kingdom was, in many ways, more theirs than his after all.

      No one spoke out, so the forlorn king turned, wiped the kindness from his face, and changed into his more comfortable black jogging pants, dark blue t-shirt and black zip-up jacket. He ate plain porridge at his small dinner table, while his son picked an apple from the fruit bowl on the side to take outside with him. "Goodbye, Brendan! Enjoy today," Augustus smiled and his son turned to smile back.

      The prince loved his father but only found difficulty and responsibility in his depression. Responsibility he ran from. "And you. Maybe you could finish that painting today."

      "Yes. Maybe."

      The young prince sighed, assuming his dad would remain motionless for a long while yet, as he did normally. Brendan left, the door shutting softly behind him.

      Inside the castle, which was almost too small to be called a castle, but more a rather large house, the king sat and stared at the empty bowl between his hands and the bits of porridge that clung to the spoon in the middle for dear life, as if the king might have energy enough to attempt their ingestion once more. But he didn't.

      A knock sounded on the dining room door, an abrupt knock, eager. "Come in."

      A young man with full, brown hair and hazel eyes entered the room, "Augustus."

      "Bruno, you know you don't have to knock. You are my friend, are you not?" Augustus replied, motioning for Bruno to take the seat opposite.

      "Of course, Gus, I am. And you are my best friend. Which is why I'm reminding you once again that you are in charge of a kingdom that needs your guidance, not your silence. They need a king, not a sleeper. Are you not aware?" Bruno took the seat and drank the cup of fresh tea Augustus had poured for him just before his arrival, as if he had known.

      With a wave of the hand, the king dismissed his worry. Not his words, just the intensity of which he gave them, and Bruno knew that. "Do you not know of this morning's speech? Do you not count that as guidance enough to last today, so I may stay hidden and mourn?"

      "It's been sixteen years. Now is not the time to mourn. You cope." Bruno looked into his cup, at the swirling tea leaves where the bag had split. "Either you move on, or you do something about it."

      "Do something about it? That option is new and I am very much intrigued to know the motive behind its sudden appearance. What is it you know?" The king suddenly seemed awake, focusing his eyes on his best friend's with a curiosity and hope strong enough to smash every glass in the kingdom. But Bruno was stronger, for he had lived with Augustus for many a year and had grown used to his change in mood and the intensity of his hope.

      Bruno wasted no time, he only spent a moment noticing the king's reaction before saying, "For the first time in the last fifty years, an oracle has been reported to be living in the kingdom. Apparently she has been here a while but has only recently spilled her name from her tongue to the air, making her traceable through the living woods where it is assumed she is taking residence."

      "What are you waiting for?" the king demanded, jumping to his feet, the chair falling backwards, the legs trapping him in a box invisible to his focused eyes. "Give me directions and I shall leave at once."

      Bruno rested a hand on his friend's shoulder, suddenly by his side. "You should stay here. The people need you more than they need me, you know that. I'll go." He smiled, his eyes filled with warm sadness as he dropped his hand to grab his coat and hat from the rack by the door. "You don't need to say anything, just get changed and go talk to the public, spend time with Brendan. I'll be back as soon as I can be."

      Augustus said nothing, leaving his most trusted friend to take upon himself the most important task of the king's life since the war against the disease that had left the kingdom full to bursting with the dead.

      Leaving through opposite doors, the two best friends parted ways simply and the king walked quite quickly to his room. His knees called out in their own language of clicks, telling him to slow but he wouldn't listen. Not now. He threw on some nicer clothes, none too fancy but respectable enough for a king, and packed a bag of little money, a small amount of food, and the keys to his 'castle'. With a hopeful smile on his face, he left through the front door in search for his son. Eyes wide open, and exploring the outside world he had avoided for almost sixteen years exactly, Augustus greeted his people who, in their momentary surprise, could only manage an awkward wave.

      The butcher waved excitedly at the king, and it would have warmed him thoroughly had the butcher not forgotten to put his knife down first. A quick nod and he was on his way past the stall of famous meats and heading towards the market stalls of fruit, vegetables, bread and cheeses. And again, the king passed with a smile and small talk about the weather - greying clouds - or occasionally their general well-being. He cared more for the health of his people than the state of the skies, but one was quicker than the other and he was in a rush. A rush of hope.

      A head of blonde hair bobbed down the cobbled path ahead of him and he locked on to it through the crowds, thankful for his family's inherit tallness. His walk sped up, and when he was finally close enough, he shouted out, "Brendan! Bren!" And his son turned to face him, painted with utter confusion that slowly faded into a brightness unseen by the king for years.

      "Dad?"

      "You'll never guess, you just won't guess it!" He exclaimed, arms out wide to embrace his son if he so chose, fingers wide to make the event out to be the miracle he felt it was.

      "You gonna tell me then?" Prince Brendan asked, laughing a little, his whole body bursting with the infectious joy of his father having left the small royal mansion. He loved his father, he really did, but part of him found himself wanting the king to stay hidden forever and resign.

      Augustus rolled his eyes, "Son, Bruno has heard tell of an oracle located in the woodland of our very kingdom. I shall have answers of Rose's whereabouts so soon! I can feel it in my bones, my son. I will find her." Both father and son delighted in the revelation. For the king, this meant hope of his daughter returning. For the prince, however, it meant the hope that his father would find the peace he needed to accept his sister's death. He'd loved Rose too and had been just six when she had disappeared, left heartbroken. But he had carried on, had accepted and moved on from her Rose's assumed death so that he could live his own life in carefree joy.

      "Well, dad, as you're in such a good mood I suppose now is the time to introduce you to Violet." Brendan gave his dad a smile, "I was waiting until the right time because I didn't know how it might affect you, y'know, if it upset you or something." At his dad's insistent look, he continued, "She's my girlfriend. We've only been together a few days though."

      "Son, this is brilliant! I must meet her at once!" The king exclaimed.

      Brendan nodded and led the way. He'd left Violet with her two best friends that morning, planning to meet not long later that day, and so he took his dad to their proposed meeting place to wait. The flower shop on the corner of the quaintest, most beautiful street off the town square. Each side of the narrower-than-average street was lined with cream stone buildings, with pale-brown painted balconies of carved wood cradling long flower beds of a range of yellows and greens in the leaves and the brightest coloured petals, blooming in soft and scented cushions. Metal hooks painted, again a pale brown, dotted the walls in a purposely random arrangement, supporting hanging baskets of rounded or pointed shape, with the same coloured flowers as the balconies or long sweeping greens that trailed down the wall in a waterfall of tiny leaves, each working together to build the greater picture of beauty.

      Both father and son took a shared deep breath, relishing the freshness that was lifted by the wonderful scents of the flowers. As Augustus took the time to look around and take it all in, for it had changed some since he'd last been outside, he noticed how much life was hidden among them. Bees and lady birds, wasps and moths, butterflies and hummingbirds. All beautiful, all there and real and part of his kingdom. Free, there by choice alone. Augustus loved what he was seeing so much that he forgot where he was, forgot what he was doing, where he had been, what he had done. Forgot that the kingdom hadn't been built by him in the last sixteen years but by his people. Forgot everything except the moment he was in, so that Brendan had to tap his shoulder to bring him back to the new couple, the second half of which had just arrived.

      "Sorry, Brendan. I got a little lost in my head there," the king apologised with a chuckle unheard for so long the very ground he stood on seemed to rejoice in the sound of it.

      "Brendan?" Violet asked. Her electric blue eyes had widened massively when she'd seen the king and she had hidden her slightly tanned face with her long black hair immediately. Trying to talk through her hair now, she exclaimed in panic, "You told me your name was Sebastian!" Before Brendan could even think to explain, she called it off and ran, as quick as she could, down the street and around the corner and far away, long past the limit to what the king and prince could see.

      "Son! How dare you lie to that beautiful young lady! How dare you lie to anyone!" Augustus was fuming. His face reddened with the embarrassment that he had raised a liar. But... maybe that was the issue. How well had he raised him? Had he really raised him at all?

      The young prince stormed off in the opposite direction, quickly calming to a stroll and a confident wave and smile as he walked through the crowds of people that had grown to see him as their leader, an average person of the town with more than the average amount of control. No one knew how little he did to help them, how little time he spent with his father, never mind discussing the politics of the kingdom, and he liked to keep it that way. The more people knew, the less popular he'd be. Being a well-loved prince got you places he hadn't imagined - the occasional load of free food and basically a free pass out of trouble, if ever he was caught causing it.

      Left alone in the middle of the most beautiful street that existed, surrounded by nature and its purity, Augustus felt disgusted, felt as if the world had suddenly darkened, fading into the world he'd only recently escaped from. Subconsciously, he raised a hand to his opposite arm, rubbing along the underside as if to make better the cuts he knew were hidden beneath his sleeves. He should have done better, should have protected his daughter and raised his son in a happy home.

      What a fool he'd been to trick himself into believing he'd raised a good person in his son.

      Augustus made a silent promise to himself not to harm himself anymore but rather become a stronger and constant father figure to his only son, in the hope that he could re-set Brendan on the right path through life. Heading back to his home, he thought about how to prepare for his new life and the redemption of his prince.

      But first, he'd get Rose back.