Traffic.
I fucking hate traffic.
My father sharing the same sentiment as he growls banging his hand on the steering wheel. We arrive on time however letting valet take the car. Filing in line with the other families as the procession moves into the palace.
The palace itself was grand. Massive, high towers and old stonework that had been expertly maintained for years, centuries. Large windows showing the light gleaming from within, the party alive inviting. People shoving each other to get closer to finally cross the threshold; the large steel doors that only a few times a year were opened for the public.
Engraved with the bodies of wolf clashing against swords and shields, imprinted in the metal showing our history for violence and war. Our tiresome, repetitive, now boring bloodied history. Constant war. How could anyone feel at ease when at some point some power hungry Alpha is going to flip to switch and make a call for battle.
And they wonder why I'm not around.
"I'm so excited! Beau aren't you?" Yazmin grabs my arm shaking me as she jumps up and down in her spot, bouncing in her glittering white dress. Yazmin's youthful excited glow a deep contrast to the stoicism my mother showed. I carefully wriggle myself out of her grip. We finally make go through the doors. Walking down the grand hall with the masses. Passing all the paintings of our royals history.
The first king, a Lycan took power when the world fell to darkness. A war fought an won with the blood of many before he claimed what he called victory.
His son following in his footsteps, fighting the next biggest threat to his power.
And every son that came after doing the exact same thing.
Wash, rinse, and repeat.
"We're the Oakwood family, under Alpha Regean." My father checking us in with a snooty looking butler. Nose raised high as he looked down at his clip board.
"You're seated in section 8, table 2." He says giving him a blue slip of paper which my father folds and neatly puts into his side pocket.
All of us walking behind him as he leads us to our table. Sitting down as all the other families find their seats.
"Apparently the kings son is supposed to make an appearance tonight too." Luca says. "He's also drafting new members for his army."
"Let me guess son, you want to be drafted." Our Father asks as he takes a sip from the water goblet in front of him.
"It would be better than fighting what ever useless battle Regean has." Luca whispers lowly.
"Hush Luca." Mother hisses. "You can't talk about our Alpha this way, and especially in front of this many people."
"But it's true." I chime in grabbing the wine in front of me. Lifting the cup to my nose to inhale as Luca continues.
"It is true. At least in the royal army if I have to fight, at least it would be something worth fighting for. Right Beau?"
"I didn't say all that." I shake my head.
The wine. Subtle notes of blackberry, a hint of vanilla, the wood the wine fermented it smells like cherry. I take a sip, the flavor spreading over my taste buds before smacking my lips in distaste. Setting the wine down.
"Someone lied." I grimace.
"About what?"
"The wine isn't mature enough. I'd give it another year or two before cracking the barrel open. For now it's just good for getting drunk." I push the wine goblet further away. My parents staring at me in silent shock. "But as for you joining the royal army, sure in our societies eyes you'd be serving a greater purpose, you'd be serving the king."
"Yes." Luca nods.
"But just because he's the king, it doesn't make his reason for war anymore just then the last or next person to wear the crown."
"Isabeau that's enough!" My mother hisses.
"Look at every reason Regean went to war. Did things improve, were they worth it?" I ask. Luca weighs on his answer a bit, tilting his head from side to side before shaking his head.
"Now look at every reason the king went to war. Did things improve? Were they worth it?" I ask again earning a warning growl from our father.
"Isabeau that's enough!" He whispers heatedly. "We are in the presence of Lycans. Lycans with exceptionally good hearing, and they won't hesitate to rip you to pieces over what you just said about their king."
"Ah, so their king." I give a lopsided smile. "Not ours. Well no one seems to be shitting their pants yet, and I am still in one piece. Maybe they have thicker skin than you think." I shrug.
The party goes on. The royals not yet making an appearance, and everyone getting restless.
"Where are they?"
"I want to see the prince!"
"Maybe it's the prince. You know he's infamous in the palace. Never wakes up on time, misses all of his meetings."
"Who could care about that? No matter what he does, he's an only child and he's the heir."
"I'm hungry."
"We eat when they eat."
"Where is the prince?"
"Well," I drawl out as I stand from the table. "I'm gonna use the bathroom."
"You can't leave what if they show up when your gone?" My mother hisses.
"Oh no what ever shall I do." I reply monotonously, a half lidded deadpanned stare. "How ever shall I survive?"
I slowly turn away from the table with a roll of my eyes and set to find a bathroom. But not really.
The boredom was killing me.
Wandering the palace halls, as I stealthily avoid passing servants and butlers. Wandering into open rooms and swiping decent wine from their upstairs bar. Drinking from the bottle as I pass by another room. This one barely open, a bedroom. And empty.
I push the door further in and look around the dark space. The bed high off the ground, empty but messy.
Now I'm crossing boundaries.
The room smelled of pine, and fresh rain. The windows left open leading out to a large balcony. Walking over, the view of the ocean hit me. The smell of the salty sea, the moon almost full its light enchanting as it flooded the room.
Another open door led to the bathroom. Pushing the door open to find nothing but black marble and glass. The shower could be it's own room. A large deep sink underneath a mirror that stretched across the wall. Looking around the bathroom taking a swig out of the wine bottle.
"Nice bathroom." I mutter.
"Thank you!" A deep voice startling me making me almost drop the bottle.
"Dear fucking God!" I shout as I lean over clutching the sink and setting the bottle down.
"Language." The voice hums again.
"Fuck you!" I spit. Realizing the voice is coming from the in ground tub. The tub itself surrounded with fogged privacy glass.
"Aren't you supposed to be downstairs with the others?"
"My social battery has run out. I'm hiding." I say and take another gulp of wine.
"Aren't you supposed to be downstairs?" I throw the question over my shoulder refusing to look his way.
"Soon enough. I feel no need to rush. They'll get what they came for." He drawls lazily. "Same as you."
"And what do you think that is?" I laugh at him.
"To get your teeth and claws into the prince. Or if you're ambitious, the king." He says pointedly.
"You're assuming I want their attention at all." I say walking over to him. And stopping just before the stairs. My back to him I sit on the marble floor. Raising the bottle behind my head to him.
"What is this?" He asks.
"It's no fun drinking alone." I say and wave the bottle again. He takes it from me. Water dripping down the bottle to my fingers. One he has it I quickly move my hand away to avoid his touch. Shaking my hand free of the droplets I hear him take a swig.
"What are you here for then?" He asks.
"Familial obligation." I answer simply leaning my head back against the glass.
"Familial obligation." He repeats, the sloshing of the wine in the bottle telling me every time he takes a sip.
"If it wasn't for the king constantly demanding every member of the house show up to one of his little parties, I wouldn't have to be here. That tiny little clause keeps my family bound to me so that I never have a peaceful year without their hounding me to come show up because, the king demands it." I rant mockingly holding my hand out of the bottle.
The bottom of it reaching my hand, and I bring it around take a long drink.
"If the king demands your presence, then there is no argument about it."
"I could stand to make one though."
"Which is?" He goads and I hear the movement of the water. Through the mirrors in the bathroom, I see his silhouette on the other side of the privacy glass. Right behind me.
"I've never met them. Why would I swear loyalty to a king or queen or prince I've never met? What makes them so deserving of it? Why should people die at the kings command when it's the kings job to keep people safe."
"It's the kings job to do a lot of things. Delegation, diplomacy, politics, war, all of the things that keep a kingdom together falls on just one man. The pressure of that far outweighs the feeling of people that have no-"
"No what?" I cut him off. "No consequence?"
"That's not what I meant." He says.
"Oh no, yeah. I definitely see what you mean. Why care at all for the people these things all center around? Why see them at all? They're not there; until you need them. Until there's another stupid war to fight, or a usurper is trying to use the people as leverage," I turn fast. "Why pay attention to the legs you stand on!"
His silhouette flinches away from the glass and I huff at him.
I slam the bottle between us on floor and his arm reaches around grabbing it by the neck. Thick fingers to a big hand, to a muscular tattooed arm that disappears behind the glass.
"That's why he's scared."
"Who?" He asks.
"The prince. Everything you just said is why he's terrified. It's why he's making the people wait."
"Your mouth is really reckless." He warns.
"So I've been told." I roll my eyes.
"You think being prince is easy?"
"Are you going to cry to me about how hard it is to be one of the most fortunate people on the planet?" I ask ruefully.
"Being prince is all about living up to everyone's expectations!" He shouts. "What everyone thinks matters. What you say, what you do, even how you do it, matters. The most pointless infinitesimal things matter. There's never a moment's relaxation or peace of mind. Living up to a great legacy-"
"A great legacy?" I scoff.
"Yes!"
"You're on crack." I chuckle.
"Excuse me?" He growls.
"What 'great legacy' is there? This king and every king before are nothing but warmongers. Inviting pain and destruction when they don't care to look for peace." I huff.
"A child's dream."
"Every problem they had could have been solved with a different, better solution! But that's just too simple, they need war because they have no other way to assert their power. They throw people into the line of fire and call it nothing but collateral damage." I say feeling the annoyance rise in me as I reach around snatching the bottle from him taking a swig.
"Everyone that is drafted knows what they signed up for." He says lowly.
"It's not like they have a choice, idiot!" I say moving to stand. My hand grabbing the neck of the bottle, his hand whipping around to take hold, his hand almost completely covering the label.
"What is your name?"
"Let go."
"Your name!"
"Ohmy- keep the damn bottle!" I say and stand heading towards the door.
"The wine you have downstairs for the guests is ass, by the way."