1 Chapter one:

It's a typical day in the castle, the servants rush about, trying to get everything in order for this evening's ball, something I'm not looking forward to in the least bit.

"Do I really need to go? Can't we just practice some swordplay instead?" I complain to my teacher, Sir. Col. "Sorry, kid, going to balls is an important part of your job. A king can't settle everything over a blade," he laughs, leaning against a wall, "now go get yourself ready, your father'll skin me 'live if you don't look the part." I turn and run off towards my room, letting the hand maids help me into the silky clothes I'm to wear for formal occasions.

"Your father expects you in the ball room in an hour to go over plans for this evening's events," the castle's messager announces to me because trotting off down the hall, presumably to make a similar announcement to the rest of the castle's inhabitants.

"I hate this," I mutter to myself as I lean over my balcony, gazing out over the city, a commotion in one of the lower class districts catching my attention. "What now," I sigh to myself, "why the hell are we worrying about keeping the nobles happy when people are starving."

An hour later I'm with my father in the ballroom, listening as he preaches about how a proper royal should act and how I need to dance and pay attention to the noble ladies and look for a future wife. "Father, what was going on in the lower district earlier?" I interrupt, "the royal guard was there?" Father arches his eyebrow, "it doesn't concern you," he says flatly. I grit my teeth, "how does it not concern me? If I'm going to be king one day, shouldn't you tell me what's happening outside of the castle for once?" He sighs and nods, "I suppose you're correct, you need to understand how the kingdom works, but it was only a thief, nothing that either of us needs to concern ourselves with, the guards can handle it," he explains and I nod, deciding one more question wouldn't hurt, "and what of the thief? What happened to him?" Father scoffs,"he's only slightly banged up if that's what you're asking, the guards did their job and he's in the dungeons, but you need to focus on your own job, after all, you'llbe traveling up north tomorrow." I groan, thinking about the possibly three week long trek through the mountains, I've had survival training thanks to Sir. Col insistence that a king should not have to rely on others to take care of him. I'd wanted to push him off a cliff during that trip because of how hard he pushed me to hunt, climb, fish,identify plants, and all that stuff, but in the end it made it so I could convince my father to let me leave the protection of the city, though it's rare that I get to explore the lower districts, even with my father's willingness to let me explore outside of the city.

I somehow survive the ball, hating every moment of dancing with nobles and faking enjoyment, as soon as everyone leaves I escape to my room, stripping off the annoyingly stiff clothes and pulling on a more comfortable tunic and cloth pants. Waiting about an hour before I grab a lantern and sneak out of my room, curious about the thief that was brought to the dungeons, usually the guards end up killing any prisoners before I get a chance to ask about the state of the city outside of the upper districts.

After sliding into the dungeon through a crack in the door, so it wouldn't creak, I examine the cells, looking for the thief. "Hello?" I call softly, coming to a cell with someone curled up in tight ball in the corner. "I brought food," I offer when I don't get a response from the man. He slowly lifts his head and turns to look at me, his pale skin making him look sickly. I sit down next to the bars and pull out a small loaf of bread and a mug of water I had taken from the kitchen. The man, or should I say boy, as he couldn't be any older than me, dragged himself over to the bars, the dark bruises under his eyes not helping his sickly look. "Are you alright?" I ask, handing over the bread into his shakey hands. He nods slowly, taking a bite of the bread.

I let him finish before handing him the mug and trying to get a conversation going, "I'm Amis, who are you?" I ask, hoping that he'd introduce himself. He looks up at me, before taking a sip of water. I hold back a sigh when he doesn't answer, "what did you try to steal?" I ask, trying to provoke a response. The thief just looks up at me again and points to the mug. "You tried to steal water?" I ask, confused and he nods. "Can you speak?" I ask carefully and he shrugs, looking away.

After he drinks some more of the water, I speak again, "can you write?" I ask, coming up with an idea, though very few people knew the art of reading, let alone writing, it was at least worth a shot. He looks at me and nods slowly, as if he wasn't entirely confident. "I'm going to get you out, but you have to promise not to run off," I tell him, to which he nods. Standing I unlock his cell and help him to his feet, shocked at how light he is.

Once we get back to my chambers I set him on the chair next to my fireplace and hand him a pad of parchment with an ink quill. "What's your name?" I ask and he quickly writes it down before turning the parchment so I can see his name, "Ciarán?" I say, hoping that my reading skills are still decent. He nods, and I smile, "well it's nice to meet you, are your legs broken?" I ask, worried about the fact I had to carry him most of the way, he shakes his head and writes, "not broken, weak and sore." I sigh in relief. "Do you need anything, a bath? Fresh clothes? Anything?" I ask and he nods, writing down "all of those sound good," on the parchment.

I get some fresh night clothes from my wardrobe and take them into the washroom, laying them out next to the bath. Going back out to where I left Ciarán, I offer him my hand, which he hesitantly takes, allowing me to practically carry him to the bath.

"Do you need any help?" I ask, setting him down next to the bath, which is set into the floor, instead of an above ground tub. He looks down and shrugs, making an attempt to pull off his dirty tunic. I sigh to myself and kneel down, helping him undress and get into the tub, feeling sick to my stomach at the amount of bruising splattered across his pale skin.

Once we finish I help him out and help him dress, "feeling better?" I ask and he nods, allowing me to pick him up and carry him back to the bedroom and lay him down in the bed, "I'm going to sleep in the chair," I tell him as he curls up under the covers.