The King's Denial

The prince spent most of his time hiding in his room for the whole day as he waited for his eyes to return to normal. His elbow to the windowsill supporting his chin as he watched the trees be swayed by the cold breeze brought by the graying clouds. Disregarding the hourly knocks of the attendants, Anton, and his other instructors, he chased them all of with the pretext of having a headache. Never entertained them nor had his lunch. Fortunately, the king seems to have been busy for the day at the new town square and could not interfere with his solitude.

"When will this dissipate for goodness sake," he wildly scuffled his hair. "I really want to bath in the rain, but I doubt anyone would be happy to see me like this," he sat back down to his bed and stared at his reflection with a long sigh, "Curse this curse."

It did not take long for the gray clouds to finally cover the great blue sky and gave out, watering the thirsty grass and tulips of the garden that's two stories under his window. It only made his heart melancholic as he longed for the cold rain. With nothing left but the stillness and static clash of the roof and the droplets, he slept all the way through the afternoon only to be woken up by a recurring nightmare. By the time he caught himself panting and grasping for air, his eyes have already turned back to normal.

"Nicolas, son, are you still unwell? You haven't had your lunch; do you want to have an early dinner?" the soothing voice of Natalia passing through his door calmed his nerves.

Reluctant to open the door, he waited for a good second for any changes with his eyes. Once he felt he was clear, he greeted his mother, "Good evening mother, I'm already feeling better, don't worry," brandishing a smile, it was a bit forced but he masked enough of his worries with the calculated angle of stretched. Something that he had perfected since long ago, thus he has confidence it will deceive even the keenest of eyes, or so he thought.

A mother's intuition is not something that can be easily deceived. As she reached for Nicolas's arms offering her escort, the minor stutter in his voice, the slight trembling of his eyes, she knew something was wrong. She had noticed it long before the prince could even create his perfect smile and it hits her like a sever sting every time Nicolas beams. It felt empty, it felt cold, rigid, and dry, something so fragile that's bound to break with one wrong touch.

"Are you really okay Nicolas?"

The prince halted and faced her, "Of course, mother. You have nothing to worry about, it's just a normal headache. It's been years since I've had panic attacks, I've mostly grew out of it," he laughed.

"A— are you sure?"

"Absolutely, so…," he offered his arm again, "Shall we?"

To his surprise, even though the whole table is decorated with different colors of golden brown, red, and green, the owner of the sole chair that had always judged him is nowhere to be found.

"Where's father?" he pulled the chair and offered it to the queen.

"Well, he did mention he's going somewhere aside from the square. Though where exactly, I have no idea."

"Shame, there's something I'd like to ask him."

Natalia stared at him for a good second, her brows stuck upwards, thinking this had been the first time his son had ever wanted to approach his father in his own accord. "And what could that be, maybe I can help too."

Nicolas finally settled in his chair, "Oh right, I guess you too would know about father's great grandparents, Emmanuel and Immanuel Gregory perhaps."

Natalia chuckled, already knowing that she'd be of no use. "On second thought, you should really directly ask your father. If it's about your grandfather I know a thing or two but pass that is outside my knowledge. Could you pass me that plate dear?"

"This one? With the bread?"

"Yes, thank you. But you know, almost everyone on your father's family side was named Immanuel. Your father was almost named by such but Queen Lydia at that time refused, the same way I did to give you your name."

Nicolas smiled, "Thank goodness then, but if you don't mind me asking, why did you protest?"

"Why you say…," she emptied her glass. "You cried every time your father proposed the name, even though you were only a day old by the time. Besides—"

"It's because she thought it'd be too restrictive and sounds old, even her father's name, Rodolfo, is not to your mother's liking," Frederick finally arrived still carrying the same book he had earlier this morning.

"To which I have a point," Natalia met him in his chair and when in for a kiss on the cheeks, "Besides, I only knew my parents by name and never actually met them, but that is the thing of the past. Welcome home dear, Nicolas has a question for you by the way."

She went back to her seat and Nicolas did not waste a second to follow up. "I was curious about the two princes from our lineage, father, do you know anything about them?" he asked politely, "Surely there won't be any problem if I asked with a kind tone," he thought, keeping his smile. But it seemed to have a different effect.

Frederick jolted from his seat, his tone deep and hesitant as he kept a firm hold to the black book. "W— why do you want to know," he avoided Nicolas's gaze.

"I'm interested in the both of them, since I don't have any siblings and it's even wilder to think about if I have a twin. If possible I would like to know more about them, but I'd like to know more about gramps Emmanuel, with the E."

Natalia was a bit embarrassed from what Nicolas said, she never thought that his son felt lonely having no sibling to grow up with, but to Frederick, it is the worst thing Nicolas could ask for.

The king turned pale, "I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THEM," he unconsciously raised his voice.

"I just want to ask what made him leave—"

"Please Nicolas, I'm tired"

"But—"

"When I said I don't know, I DON'T KNOW," he sat down with a thud, leaving Nicolas disappointed and the whole room silent.

"Did something upset him again during his errand," Nicolas thought, finishing his plate that's already halfway done. Flickering a faint smile towards her mother who's sorry eyes tries to ease him up from a distance. "I understand. I would like to excuse myself, mother, father, I still need to fully recover from the headache so I'll be sleeping early."

With how things had turned out, his mind is more determined to find an answer. He could still hear his mother lecturing his father about his behavior but he paid it no mind. Although looking flustered and disheartened at his seat earlier, he was attentive enough to take note on how much the king guards the book, especially when he threw the question.

"Whatever hides inside that book would explain his denial. The journal I found is still in my possession, so the one he has was probably written by the other twin. It would be hard to take hold of it though, I might as well offer my head to the guillotine if I tried to take it," he halted at the stairs and sat. His arms crossed as he recalled anyone who might have any knowledge.

"Arthur might have known something, the problem is, he's no longer here. If only—"

Anton startled him from the back, taking him out of his thoughts, "Did you enjoy your headache."

"Who the hell enjoys a headache."

"You are, since you never had one in the first place," he scuffled his hair. The prince was only about to complain when Anton placed the nail into the coffin, "I've known you long enough to even consider you as a brother, I don't care if that sounded insolent but my point is, I know when you are plotting something or not, just like now."

The prince rested his case with a sigh and a smile.