The Rightful King

Scott | 034

            Scott desperately wished that his desk chair was more comfortable.

Not that it wasn't normally. It had been his father's chair, made to fit an Alpha so Scott was absolutely swamped in it, and although the supple leather had long since lost his comforting scent, the chair reminded him of sitting in his father's lap as a pup. His father would sometimes let him cuddle up to him in the evenings, Scott had fond memories of falling asleep to the familiar thump of his heartbeat and the shuffling of legal documents.

Right now, though, it felt like he was sitting on a cold, concrete bench. The fabric of his suit felt scratchy against his sensitive skin, the lights of his office seemed too bright. He had the blanket that was usually draped across the back of his office chair wrapped around him, but he was dissatisfied that it didn't smell like anything. He knew it smelled like him, but he was unable to detect it, really, and he found himself wishing it smelled like mint and berries instead.

James was sitting across from him, evidently speaking from the way his mouth was moving, but Scott didn't hear a word he said. He wanted to lay his head down, but his desk was covered in papers that had piled up over the past week, his desktop monitor displaying the numerous emails he should be reading and responding to. Next to the keyboard was a cup of coffee he'd had a maid bring to him over an hour ago, left untouched.

Scott didn't like coffee; he wasn't even sure why he'd requested it.

A large hand fell onto his shoulder, suddenly, causing him to jump. The smell of citrus invaded his nose, and a threatening hiss left his mouth.

"My apologies, Your Majesty," James held his hands up in what was meant to be a nonthreatening manner, "You seemed to have zoned out, I was merely trying to get your attention. Are you okay? Maybe you should take the rest of the day off."

"I am fine." He snapped, more aggressive than he meant to be, and his advisor took a step back.

"A break then. Or at least take a moment to go check on your brother or something. He's still in the Palace." James must have noticed the way he looked at his desk again, because he gestured toward the papers, "They'll still be here when you get back. I can begin to sort through them for you if you'd like."

A walk would be nice. Scott found himself nodding, beginning to stand. He regretfully left the blanket where it was, letting it slide off his shoulders and fall into the chair, feeling even more exposed without it. "You may sort through the papers. Just don't touch my chair."

"Wouldn't dream of it." James slid past him to begin looking through the documents. "Maybe try eating something too. It's lunch time."

Scott hummed noncommittally as he left his study.

He found Vincent in his game room. He'd become fascinated with video game media some years back, repeatedly begging their father to install a game room one summer when he'd been staying in the Palace. Eventually the former King had obliged, and thus the game room was constructed the following week. It went largely unused outside of the summer months, since Scott had no interest in such games, and it was off limits to mostly everyone else after one of the guards had broken a console.

His brother is sprawled across a sofa, eyes glued to the screen and controller in hand. He's wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, hair disheveled as though he hadn't bothered to fix it after getting out of bed. He looked like an average teenage boy, and maybe Scott should scold him for not maintaining his appearance, but he doesn't.

That is, until he lets out a string of curses into his microphone of the headset he's wearing, and Scott is smacking his leg before he has time to think about it. It's instinctual, really, and he's fixed a stern glare toward the younger Alpha before he's even reacted properly.