The Prince's Suitor ManxMan

Chapter 2

(I apologise for the many different changes of perspective, it head hops around four times which I have clearly labelled with #### to make it less confusing. Eventually I will go back to change this to one perspective -Jaicous- but until then it will stay up like this.) :D Enjoy. -Please comment?

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Chapter Two

They dragged him to a room on the third floor of the Kingdom whilst Jaicous continued kicking and screaming. He took note of the route as they carried him- he was no longer allowed to walk it seemed, after kicking one of the guards' he did not know hard enough in the shin repeatedly. They went down into servants quartets which were sparse of people; Jaicous had never seen it so empty. The servants were nowhere to be seen to help him. No matter how hard Jaicous looked, nor how loud he screamed no one came to assist. And if they had seen they would not have helped him. Nobody messed with the Royal guards. Especially not a servant.

Up the stairs and onto the first floor Jaicous lost track of where he was. God's be damned there were so many hallways! Another set of stairs, hallways and more steps and they arrived at a door guarded by more Royal guards'. The door was crested with gold and Jaicous nearly screamed, out of his wits for thinking it might well have been the King's bed chambers.

He was relived more than he should have been as the door opened and no King Onesia was in sight and he cursed himself for it. He needed to get his head screwed back on, he was thinking like a coward and he didn't like it one bit.

The guard's placed him down with a thud and Jaicous took in his surroundings avidly with wide eyes. He had never seen above the second floor and he had never had the urge to look. It was well known across the exstensive host of servants that the third floor was off limits.  

The room was full of things that Jaicous had never laid eyes upon before. It was fairly large; a large room to fill a big ego Jaicous thought to himself with a scowl as he realised it had to belong to the Prince. It was difficult to take everything in, he couldn't help but think that if he laid out his own living space here it would not equal half of this space.

Why in God's name had they brought him here?

He let out a sharp breath as the guards' shoved him furthur inside the bed chambers and he shivered in digust at being manhandled. They had smirks on their faces and voiced what they believed to be humorous remarks. Jaicous glared at them, why did this find this situation funny? It was in no sense funny. Many of these guards he'd had encounters with before, some had even warmed his bed and none of them were stepping forward to help him.

Jaicous straightened his shoulders and sent them a harsh glare under his lashes.

He turned away and looked up to see a man no older than himself glaring back at him with an air of hatred. His mouth muttered insulting curses under his breath.

Jaicous was not intimidated enough to try and escape but he did find himself taking a step backwards. Why was he looking at him like that? What was he saying?

Where the hell had they brought him? He looked around slowly with a growl of annoyance escaping his lips, his eyes partly on the man too.

It came with no surprise that this room belonged to someone with a lot of money. He didn’t even have to start looking thoroughly for the owner of the room as it was quite obvious by the large painting of the Prince that was placed above the roaring fireplace.  In the oil masterpiece, the Prince was sat upon a rather grand gold throne with various vibrant jewels coating his arms and feet; his leg was crossed over the other in a pose that screamed of power and a familiar sword Jaicous had been only centimetres away from was resting in the Prince's arms. He cradled it in a loving way, love he probably never gave to anything else, which all just added to his self-loving persona and Jaicous's list of reasons to hate the Royal family. He would love to throw any sharp weapon he could find at that picture and then rip it to pieces with his own bare hands regardless of the consequences.