Tension of Love, Peace and Hate- Book 1: Between Two Kings

~2~

     The sun beat down on the lanky boy. His chestnut hair gleaming ginger in the harsh light. A large figure observed the teen while we worked tirelessly, his dark eyes narrowed in concentration. A mousey servant busied herself with tidying the sunroom around him.  

"His hair is too ginger. Make it be darker." His voice sent ripples through the golden goblet of wine that condensated on the wooden table next to him. The maid stiffened at his command, freezing in place, as if made of stone. "Did you hear me girl? Are you daft? Do you understand English?  Find a way to make the prince's hair darker!" He bellows, without removing his eyes from the boy outside. She squeaks an apology to her king before rushing out of the glass room, her heeled shoes clinking on the expensive tiles. Her meek voice echoes through the elongated, extravagant hallways as she whispered orders to lesser serfs. 

     Luke raised his eyes from his work, running his right hand through his sweat-drenched hair. He looked up at the sweltering sun, letting out a silent groan as he bashed the hot metal once again. His hammer grew heavy in his hand, his grip on it faltering from the amount of sweat dripping from his arms. He turned, grabbing the tongs and holding the iron bar in the furnace. He tried to continue with his sword-making practice as if two disapproving eyes weren't watching his every move. He could feel his father watching him, it made every hair stand on end and goosebumps covered his arms despite the unbearable heat. Pulling the rod from the flame, he continued hammering on his anvil for hours. His thoughts wandered to the little prince from the other half of the kingdom. What was he doing at this moment? The easiest and most likely guess was studying, or evading his schooling, or gushing over his new brother. Luke chuckled to himself at the thought of Marcel sticking his tongue out at his newborn brother and getting scolded by the nanny. 

     His sister churtled to herself in the corner, continuing to sew her cross-stitch. Marcel giggled loudly as he ran around the pastel crib, the wrinkled nanny chasing after him. 

"Bwahahaha Ms. You can't catch me nananananana." The old women let out an exasperated sigh. 

"Now now, Little Prince Marcel. You are 10 now, and as future heir to the throne, you should have more maturity than this!" Marcel kept skipping through the nursery before jumping onto a chair. 

"When I'm King, everything will be different!" 

"Oh really? And how are you gonna change it?" His sister chimed in with a monotone voice. 

"Well, first things first, I rule with Luke. We can have one big kingdom instead of two little ones and everyone will love us. Then me an him will build one big castle so we can live together."      The babysitter was shocked into silence and sister put down her needle, turning in her seat to stare at Marcel. The boy sat still as the ladies bore into him. He shrunk under their gazes, their unreadable expressions sending anxiety down his spine. The Nanny sucked in a breath before making her way to the dark child.  She stood in front of him, staring through him with a far away stare. She pulled back her shoulder before striking the young boy across his face.

     The stinging pain immediately brought tears to his eyes, due to his dark complexion, there were no marks, but the feeling was embedded in his mind. 

"Don't you talk that way young man. That prince and that kingdom are not your friends. If His Majesty ever heard you blabbering on about-" 

"If I hear what, Ms. Barrus?" The plump women whirled around to face the doorway, a tall man stood there, an intrigued look on his face. 

"Oh, your majesty, I meant nothing. It was nothing." Ms. Barrus continued on muttering something incoherent as she lowered her gaze to the King's shoes. 

"Well if that's the case, Marcel, my son, would you like to join me in a leisurely stroll through the corridors?" Marcel physically shook as he rose from his chair, he followed his father through to the ballroom. 

"So what were you saying, son?" 

"Uh, nothing Daddy. I don't say nothing."

"Didn't say anything," the King reminded. 

"Didn't say anything." Marcel repeated back with a small voice. They both made it to the throne room, the King sat down while the Prince stood in front of him.  

"Now you be honest with me." The King spoke with conviction, a voice that commanded respect and obedience. 

"I was talking about when I become King. How I'll rule with Luke and bring the kingdoms together and we'll live happily ever after!" The King pondered for a few moments.

"Luke is the Prince from across the divide, is he not?" Marcel nodded his head slowly. "And you are this close with him?" More nodding from the young Prince. "Do you love him?" His eyes went wide. 

"L-love him? Love Luke?" 

"Yes, like how your mother and I love each other, do you want that with Luke?" 

"Like you and Mommy? Yes! Would we get a big wedding too? Like how you did?" Marcel's eyes lit up at the prospect, he looked right into his father's eyes with the optimism only a child could have. He broke into an open-mouthed smile, revealing his missing left front tooth. 

"No." The King responded. Marcel's smile fell, and a question was left on the tip of his tongue. 

"You are a prince, Luke is also a prince. It is not your job to merge kingdoms or make people happy, it is to marry into a family with a beautiful princess in order to amass as much wealth that you can procure. I will not let the heir to my throne be a homosexual, especially not to one of those pale pigs that live across the divide." 

     There was no argument, the King's word was always final.