Stolen Path

11|| Roses Red and Crowns of Gold

Contains light ableism and less light xenophobia. I condone neither of these things.

-Casper-

Behind a horizon of crimson roofs, an orange sun still shone, half-hidden. Beneath it, the city's terracotta bricks, and whitewashed walls glowed like little coals and a gentle spring breeze blew up from the markets, whispering a sweet promise of summer. Evening was closing in by now, and above the restless murmur of the city, Casper stood, his mother as his side, the two of them looking down at candles flickering in lamps and windows far below.

This eastern, city-facing side of the castle was older, darker, and more professional than the marble and limestone halls that the third prince spent most of his days in. Rich wood, vaulted ceilings and old tapestries gave it an air of masculinity and power that appealed to magistrates, generals, and other people that Casper was sure were all very important in running a country.

"How is Geldric's child settling in?" the high queen stared out across the city, her eyes tracing the curve of the river Chayne from its second confluence to cluster of ports further south, "His lordship has told me how they're both quite fine, but he's always been too inclined to politeness."

"Ah, well I believe – very well. Or at least well enough to not kick up a fuss." Casper replied. He glanced from the city below to his mother's face, "I know I've been asking a lot but—"

"No. There hasn't been any more news of the aetheling," his mother pinched her brow and sighed, "He will recover, we just need to give him time."

"Has he gotten my letters?" Casper looked up at his mother again, eyes wide, pleading.

"Course he has, lopkin" she smiled at him weakly, her hand trailing from the top of his head to his cheek, "He just... he just needs to rest. Keep him in your prayers and maybe the Twins will smile on us." Her hand drifted away, and she swallowed as if searching for words to say, "There is... a discussion I need to have with you, about your future. Being the third prince, you are expected to take on certain duties, and although it all seems very far away to you right now, the Twins has a habit of making time seem to drift away from us all without our notice. It's better to prepare for the future while we can."

Apprehension crawled up Casper's spine and a slow sense of understanding dawned upon him. He nodded, smiling and attention firmly fixed on a nook in the battlements.

His mother opened her mouth to speak then closed it again, "I want you to know that no plans have been made between us and her parents – they haven't explicitly suggested anything and neither have we. For them, it's just a tour around the southeastern nations—"

"A tour? But that would make them—"

"Well, yes lopkin." His mother rested her elbow on the stone wall, fist at her lips in thought. She shook her head and stared down, "It's the Pangranti royal family," she said plainly, as if commenting on the weather, "their eldest daughter is fifteen this Drimon coming, making her two months older than Callum. Her name is Henrietta Louisa Elizabetta von Dracheburg and she is first in line for the throne."

"Oh..." Pangrant? Why not the daughter of a loyal earl or baron? "What's she like?" Casper's words felt small even as they left his mouth. Where's my sense of loyalty? My sense of pride? He scolded himself, suppressing his internal anxieties as he jutted out his chin to look even a bit brave.

"She can play the harpsichord well and knows Ferrotian, Beskerkan, Blanccian, Vistlan and, out of unfortunate necessity, Voltaran," She continued to stare out into the city's dusk, "apparently she's fond of hunting too, so make sure to show her that you can shoot."