they call it drakon- the land of the dragons. bring in a street thief, a scholar, a few dragons and a crown prince who doesn't know what's good for him, you've got a recipe for disaster. oh, don't forget the web of lies simply waiting to be unrave...
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IT WAS THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.
A prince snuck out of his room, sticking to the shadows of the palace and trying to look inconspicuous. He moved with the expertise of a prince who'd been sneaking out of his room since he was ten. It kind-of worked, but maybe it was the cloak. His cloak covered most of his face and body, shrouding him in darkness. He had never been so glad not to have anything sparkly on his pajamas. His cousin Celeste, however, did- she couldn't live without sparkles. The corridor was quiet- it was midnight, and everybody was asleep. He successfully crept past the few guards who wandered around the palace halls with sleepy gazes. He made a quick dash for the door, arriving at the palace gates. He breathed a sigh of relief. The first part of his mission was complete-
"Your Highness!" A voice hissed. The prince tensed as somebody grabbed his shoulder. He'd been caught. He could lie his way out, but he had never been a particularly good liar, so it definitely wouldn't work. "What do you think you're doing?" He should've known better than to think that he'd been successful. He was prone to jinxing himself. Fortunately, he hadn't been caught by a random palace guard. He'd been caught by Cecil Brantley, captain of the guards, his unofficial bodyguard and nanny, as well as best friend. He took the night shift, claiming that the night breeze was 'quite comforting'. The prince shivered to himself. He and his friend had to agree to disagree, on that topic. It was far too chilly for him, and he was glad he'd brought the cloak along with him. "Get back to bed, Alistair!"
Alistair shot Cecil a glare. How did the guard always manage to creep up on him? Cecil really needs a bell attached to his neck, Alistair decided. He turned around, but he couldn't find Cecil. He turned the other way, finally spotting his friend. Screw one bell, he needs a dozen. "Stop creeping up on me!" Alistair whispered angrily. "Besides, you know what I'm doing!"
"Yeah, but the other guards don't know that, do they? I need to make it look like I'm actually doing my work so they do theirs as well! You know how they're like." Cecil grumbled, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. Cecil looked young, but sometimes his mannerisms made it seem like his soul had aged ahead of him. Alistair had many theories about why, but all were frankly quite stupid. The only one that made a little sense was that some extreme trauma happened to him when he was a child, and his mind had been forced to mature and think like an adult would. "Why do I even put up with them? Or you? I'm always covering up for you when you're up to no good."
Alistair cocked his head, mischief making his emerald green eyes gleam in the dark. "Me? Up to no good? Since when has that ever happened? I don't know what you're talking about!" His innocence was all a façade. On the outside, he was the perfect crown prince. On the inside, however, he was a rebellious young man who made daring escapes from the palace on a nightly basis. Sleep loss wasn't too much of a problem for him- he could take naps anytime he wanted. What could he say? His father was what some would call a 'helicopter parent', and especially because his father was a king, Alistair had to find a way to deal with his stressful life. Once, he'd managed to sneak into the local pub disguised as a peasant and got horribly drunk. Cecil, ever the white knight, had to bail him out, and for that he was so grateful. That was a story for another time.
"You're always up to trouble. I know you too well." Cecil drawled.
