Michaela Jackson is part human, part metal.
Hale Romanoff is a naive victim of an assault.
Nicholas Crawford is an incompetent bastard.
Jackson Crawford is an underage king.
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J A K E C R A W F O R D
"I have never, ever, expected this behaviour coming from you, Jake" Father paces around the throne room, wadding a finger at me. I lower my head, showing him that I am ashamed of what I have done to Clarkson. 2 ribs broken and one leg fractured. Plus other minor injuries. He's one himself, giving me bruises and scars all over the place. I kneel on one knee, feeling my back cracking and my neck on fire. I still lowermy head. "I am sorry, Father," I try an apology in my most solemn voice. I have lived my 19 years of records spotlessly clean. No crime, no accidents, no mistakes. Until, today.
Father steps forward, his eyes as dark as night and his belly nonexistent. His muscles stretched, bigger and plumper than mines, years of military work has been an advantage. Nevertheless, he stands tall, not as tall as me, but tall. Beckoning me to stand up, he swats his palm across my face. "No, Zoltan!" Mother shouts from the corner. I make a quick glance at him before my head moves the other direction due to the momentum. His eyes don't show any signs of anger. Not even sadness. But disappointment. All because of me.
My lips feel the closed wound open again, and I find myself slurping blood to hide it from Mother. He waves his hand to her, "I have let you in my kingdom, with your children! I let these... brats in because I love you, I let them keep their names from their aquamarine Father! Now don't make me regret this" Father yells in a harsh tone. He did everything for us. He raised me to be a Prince when I was never of Royal Blood and let me keep my previous identity. I have disappointed him, greatly. My head remains tilted, but my mind speaks ultimate embarrassment. Hot tears roll down my eyes. No, a King never shows his weaknesses.
The bitter water drops sting my cheek, where the lash marks from Clarkson's nails remain. Father must have sensed my negativity. He cups my face, a warm feeling rolls down my spine. "Son, I dislike your actions" He switches his mood from frustration to sadness. I turn my head towards him, not lowered this time. "I know, and I am truly sorry". It was a real apology spoken from the heart. His eyes follow mine, golden amber twinkling underneath the throne room chandelier. The royal guards were told to stand outside, so were the maids and advisors. The only people in the room is me, Father and Mother.
