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prologue. the prince's gone
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A DARK NIGHT WAS A GOOD SHIELD, the queen knew it well, as she made sure to wrap his son in a dark, black cloak when she woke him up. The young boy didn't say a word at the moment he saw his mother's face in his room, neither when she asked him to get into his mourning clothes and to leave the bed because dawn had come, and it was time to visit a dear friend from her.
He had been crying all night, the queen noticed. There were tears on his cheeks along a red blush that indicated her that he had managed to put down the need to scream. He didn't complain for that or for such the early hour he was taken from bed, though he did ask for his brother. He's fine, the queen told him, sleeping as the kind baby he is. The boy nodded, but that was not enough to make him left that sad expression he wore.
The servants who were already awake bowed in their direction when they walked at their side, muttering in the corridors once they gave them the back. The King has died, was what they said. Long live our prince! Long live our future king! The boy heard them, so as his mother, and the only thing he did as a reaction was to continue accepting their obeisance and pretended it didn't hurt to hear again and again that his father was no longer with them.
