He Didn’t Want To Love Anyone

Fraser opened his eyes. His body ached, and his head's pain was worse. He rubbed his forehead. He tossed around to get a wink of sleep, but his thoughts refused to let it happen.

Tonight differed from the previous one. At least Fraser could sleep, not too much, but it sufficed him and cleared his mind.

He wore his shoes and went outside his bedchamber. The quarter was deadly silent. He shuffled to the stable, where his old stallion rested. The horses screamed, and the stable boy hurried to see what was happening. He signalled to him to retreat, and he did.

Looking at his black majestic horse which neared him snuggling and licking his face, Fraser chuckled, rubbed his hand over its soft pelt and stroked its long black tresses.

He opened the horse box and freed it, taking it on a ride at the outskirts of the castle. The cold wind caressed his body. He remembered it was the place where he and his brothers would race. Whereas their laughter filled the surroundings. His second brother Darien would be the last as usual, while he and Estevan competed for first place. Although they were ten years apart, he should have won every time, but Estevan would trick him, causing him to lose.

Darien would reprimand him for being too attached to the first prince. Fraser would shake his shoulder and leave. The only person he cared for was Estevan. If he needed him to sacrifice his life, he would be more than pleased to accomplish it.

As the fourth prince and the king's unfavored son, he had no desire to fight for the crown. He chose his path at ten. He had to convince his mother for years, while his father denied his mother's pleas and agreed to his request. It was considered the only thing he was grateful for his father.

After taking a spin around, Fraser returned to his chamber, waiting for the sun to rise. Lucas greeted him with a slight bow.

"Your Majesty, I will tend to your requests today," he said. Fraser pressed her lips together.

"Why? Did that maid get scared and run away?" he asked. After the incident last night, she should be terrified. If the woman left, he wouldn't be surprised.

"Felma requested for a rest leave as her ankle was injured."

'Injured? Ankle?' He remembered the physician telling him about the queen's injury. 'Is it a coincidence that they had the same injury on their ankle?'

Shrugging the unnecessary thoughts, he bathed, put on his clothes, ate his meal and went to his working room, followed by Trent.

"Did the trader community agree to lower the price?" Fraser asked, and Trent shook his head.

"Your Highness, I tried convincing them, but they didn't budge, saying if they lowered the grain price, they would suffer a great loss. As your grace knows, the rainfall was lower than the last season, so the corps was a little less than the need. The grain's price triples compared to the last year."

"We had only one chance... to restore the previous trade with the Valian's kingdom like before," Trent explained.

"I do not agree," Fraser said. During the years he reigned, Fraser tried shrinking his trading with that filthy kingdom.

Trent appeared concerned as he addressed the king. "Your grace, please consider this matter carefully. It pertains to the welfare of our kingdom. The people have been protesting the lack of grain and the exorbitant prices they have to pay for it. With the possibility of little rainfall this season, many may go hungry. I propose we resume trading with the Valian kingdom for the time being until the hot season passes. My biggest fear is the potential for a riot."

Fraser pressed his lips. Dissatisfaction and unease grew in his heart. the issue of food deficiency rose recently while the trading community refused to lower the price. He felt all the incidents were pushing him to help that kingdom rise again.

The situation in that kingdom was far worse than the citizens saw. The once flourishing kingdom left its shell while the inside was rotten. The king never cared about his people. Indulging himself in pleasure while beheading everyone objecting to him.

A cunning man.

"What about the Lysium kingdom?" he asked. Unease grew in his heart. He was sure about having a traitor working within the Valians, but he couldn't find him. The only way to avoid working with them was to have a replacement.

"The hot season affected them more than us."

Fraser nodded. That kingdom had a huge space covered with sand. Only a small area of their territory was for feed exploitation.

"Then the tribes' lords at the north," he asked.

"The distance between us is large. It will take over four months to transport the goods," Trent said.

Fraser sighed. "Prepare a trading agreement," he said.

"Your majesty, I will not lie to you, but you are the most thoughtful king I have ever known. Thank you for thinking about the commoners. I had the honour to work by your side. I wanted to say that for a long time," Trent told him with teary eyes.

Fraser stared at his helper to see if he was ill or if something happened to him. Seeing the tears in Trent's eyes, his heart swelled proudly. The first time someone appreciated his work.

A rare smile printed on his face. He felt a burst of energy gathering in his body, eating up all his tiredness. He gazed at the contracts resting on his table with eagerness for the first time.

Gazing at the assignments he finalised, Fraser strode outside to stretch his body with a smile on his face.

"Your Majesty, the Queen Mother relapsed again," Lucas informed him.

Fraser hurried to his mother's pavilion. As he neared her chamber, a crushing sound echoed. The maids stood outside shivering. He passed them as they greeted him and entered.

The room was in a mess. Pieces of furniture smashed into the floor. The tables and chairs were upside down. His mother's appearance was unkempt. She raised her hand, throwing her favourite mirror on the floor, falling beside his feet.

"Fraser!" she exclaimed, walking toward him. "When did you come? Are you hurt?" she asked, checking him.

"I am fine, Mother. Come and sit," said Fraser, dragging her to sit on the sofa. "What happened?"

His mother calmed a bit. "I dreamt of your father choking me to death and your br—"

"Mother, he is already dead."

"I know, but—"

"Don't think of him," he said, and she leaned on him. The usual words he would say when he calmed her. After his father's death, his mother was affected the most. And sometimes, she would relapse.

Tucking his mother in her bed, he kissed her hand and exited the room.

The previous king made her suffer in his life and after his death. He asked himself why his mother insisted on marrying his father. She was a young woman with influence and could marry a good man, but she decided to be the second queen.

Is it for love?

He didn't want to love anyone in his life.