The First Prince Jaime

"This is how I would imagine hell to be. Smoldering hot."

"Hell is hotter. It would need to melt your ego completely."

"My, how rude. Is this how one should speak to a prince?"

"Pardon me for my terrible manners, your highness."

Even though she didn't want to go, she had to leave. A messenger from the town arrived telling her that the Prince was waiting for her at an inn. She made her way there and didn't have to wait to see him.

The black haired prince was as popular of a figure as she was. During the war, he allegedly slaughtered a thousand men all on his own surrounded in a siege. The legend was true and confirmed by Aretha because the prince did in fact gave mana running though his veins. Such a feat was possible with mana.

He wore something plain like she always did, a shirt and a pair of trousers, pairing it up with a brown animal skin coat. The scar running down his face from his left eye made him look fierce but he was not as hostile as he appeared. He always had a welcoming smile, something that Aretha claimed made her feel weird.

From the inn, they made their way to the crimson divide, entering one of the pits with a much higher temperature. Despite complaining about the temperature, he didn't take off his coat.

"So, what's it like to be married?"

"More peaceful than I would've imagined. Watch your step, princess."

"I think the word you're looking for is prince. But I'll allow it. Aren't you pleased with what I got you? If I didn't intervene, you would've gotten a much uglier one."

"The possibility of that happening is next to zero, much like your prospects of inheriting the throne."

"Doesn't pull even a single punch. How can he even stand you?"

"He's fallen for me. You're just jealous, Prince Jaime. Your wife still hates you, I presume?"

"Don't flatter yourself. We're making progress in our relationship. I now see her face once in a week."

Aretha gave him a deadpan stare. She couldn't take him serious with that reply. Instead of giving her reply, she crouched down and dipped her hand into a pool of orange liquid at their feet. It sizzled as she dipped her hand but she didn't show any signs of discomfort. She pulled out her hand, whole and touched it to her temple.

"The tracks are fresh. I reckon about…ten days."

"Woah! Is it that bad?"

"A demon emperor is on the loose. I wonder if it's not bad enough. It's one even I can't defeat. We're going to have a hard time."

"You can't take care of it? Well, it was nice knowing you."

"Let's get out of here before I consider leaving you here like I did to my family."

"So cruel. Let me come with you. I want to meet him."

Aretha gave him a look and turned her eyes away without saying anything. She started to make her way back, followed closely by the leisurely prince. They got back to the inn and Aretha waited for him to enter his carriage before going behind him on a horse.

"You're seriously not going to join me inside the carriage?"

"I'm a married woman."

"What are you implying, Duchess Aretha?" The prince asks, irked.

"A married woman cannot be moving together in a closed space with a man that is not her husband, no?"

"You are infuriating when you want to be clever. I wonder how Renfield puts up with you."

"I am his master."

"Of course."

The ride was silent till they arrived back at the castle. Conan was at the door to greet them, his back straighter than a rod. The fatigue he had earlier was nowhere to be seen.

"Welcome, your highness!" He greeted, bowing in utmost courtesy.

"Conan! I haven't seen you in a bit. Is your master still a huge pain in your behind?"

"Our lord is gracious, sire!"

"I guess the only ones more pretentious than the master are the servants. Now, where's the husband?"

"You sound like a pervert, looking for my husband immediately you entered my home. And why do I feel like you're going to treat him like a child?"

"Nonsense. That's just your imagination."

Aretha reserved all comments and ordered Conan to bring them tea while they settled in the living room. The word soon spread that the prince was in the castle and the nosy maids started coming out from their corners.

Taylor heard about it in passing when retrieving the clean clothes of Caspian from the maids. An amused smirk fit its way snugly on his lips as he made his way back to the room. Setting the clean clothes into the closet, he spotted his lord on the balcony.

"Isn't it cold there, milord? The unpredictable weather of the territory has taken many lives," he says, holding the door open.

"You wish to scare me about everything in this territory? I am not that fragile."

"That is what they said, Milord. Please come in. I'll request tea to warm you up."

Caspian rolled his eyes and wheeled himself into the room. Taylor locked the balcony and went out to call a passing maid while Caspian grabbed a book for himself.

"Milord, it looks as if tea is already being prepared downstairs. Do you wish to descend?"

"At least I can go downstairs," Caspian grumbled, wheeling himself to the door, the book still on his lap. Taylor dropped the curtains in front of the balcony, smiling at his reflection.

As they got closer, Caspian heard the familiar sound of Aretha's voice…followed by the unfamiliar voice of a man. He sounded agitated and angry. It worried Caspian, especially since Aretha sounded like she was feigning calmness.

"…trespassing on your territory and you don't seem to mind! Soon your territory would become a den of thieves, Aretha!"

"I don't have much of a choice. I need the population and I need the extra hands."

"You're sacrificing them to the demons?"

"Sacrificing is a big word. I prefer…"

They both turned their stares on him as he made a slow entrance. Seeing the black haired man gave Caspian an immediate sense of danger, especially the scar on his eyes. It drove him to stop by Aretha's side.

"Taylor said there was tea downstairs."

"Did he now?" Aretha responds, looking at the door where Taylor stood, staring back innocently.

"I didn't know there was a guest. I would've worn something more…appropriate."

"See, Aretha? Clearly he has more manners than you!"

Aretha rolled her eyes. The annoyed expression she wore almost immediately dissipated when she looked back at him. Giving him a tiny smile, she took his hand.

"Husband, this is Prince Jaime…"

"The first prince?! I have been so rude, your highness! Please forgive me!"

Instead of saying something, Prince Jaime laughs like a lunatic, slapping his knee. Aretha takes the patience to educate Caspian.

"We fought in the war together so we are like old friends. You don't have to mind your words or manners around him. He welcomes the warmth from our scathing words his wife doesn't give him."

Her words immediately brought his laughter to a halt.

"Do not corrupt his mind, Aretha!"

"Remind me whose husband he is? Hmmmm…exactly!"

Caspian didn't know what to think about this relationship. There were no gossip involving the first prince and the duchess of Lothbridge among social circles even though both of them have been embroiled in many scandals.

Rumors couldn't define what a person knew, apparently. This realization made him very uncomfortable.