The kingdom of Gadreel was lively with movement on the night The Prince returned.
Because they were seeing a rare moment in their history where they had no members of Gadreel's blessed family that possessed control over the elements, the seasons had fallen into a more predictable pattern and thus for the first time in almost three generations, they could be sure that spring would be ending soon for the bitter winters they were known to have.
Knowing that it was only a matter of time before things would return to it's usual state of chaos once the inevitable happened and a child of the elements would be born again, there was no time for rest for the citizens of Gadreel.
They were mad with work. The roads were occupied with frantic horses drawn carts and the ports were congested with boats and merchants from far away lands that were eager to take advantage of the period of predictable peace.
It was because there were so many new, strange faces that no one noticed The Prince when he entered the cold, damp ports of the city by the sea. Though he had kept hidden away as a child by his possesssive godmother, as a full grown man his face was well known in their realm because of the distinct features he possessed, features that were found only in the house of Kokabel, of which he was born to through his father, the man known far and wide as the Lycan King.
He made little effort to hide who he was as he went through the city with just a hooded cloak to obscure his identity, and the few that did realize who he was had been smart enough to keep it to themselves. Though The Prince had not been known for violence, his father had been the most brutal man in the realm and his godmother was famous for her acidic temper, so anyone with a lick of sense knew not to risk finding out if The Prince was like either of them.
The journey to his godmother's home was a quiet one in which The Prince reflected on the last time he had been here. He had been raised in Gadreel by his Godmother, had never been more than two minutes for her side up until he had been sixteen and took on his own Godchild against the orders of his godmother.
After that, he had been banished from Gadreel and lived a life of constant travel as he raised his godchild. His father's reputation and his godmother's bitterness had followed him across the realm and forced him to always been on the move and the two of them had seen many places, rarely the same twice.
The Prince had desired to leave their realm behind for the mortal one and to live a life of relative anonymity and unimportance, but his godchild's desire to stay and been what kept him here. Now that he no longer had his godchild, it was his intent on leaving Gadreel and this realm behind him entirely...
But before he went, there was one last thing he had to do.
When he came to the grand stone castle where he had been raised, he let himself in. It was late at night and the dark, damp halls were quiet, just as his godmother had preferred it.
Though the castle was full of servants, they knew to be the sort whose work was seen while they themself remained out of sight, as his godmother was known to bring out her explosive anger out on whoever was within her direct line of sight. He passed just one servant on his way to where he knew his godmother would be. The servant saw him immediately panicked and disappeared back around the corner they had just come from.
That was fine.
He didn't want to be a surprise to his godmother.
His godmother did not react well to surprises, but since she did not respond to his letters, he knew he had little choice but to just appear.
He felt her sharp surprise the moment it happened, his Godmother reaching through their sacred bond to see just where he was. He felt her myriad of emotions then as well when she realized he was only one level below her - annoyance, relief, anger, curiosity.
The doors to the dining hall opened for him when he turned the hall and for the first time in over fifteen years, he saw his godmother, seated for the feast laid out before her as drummed her long fingernails against the wooden arm of her chair -
Taptaptaptap.
Taptaptaptap.
Taptaptaptap.
She was a lovely older woman, but the meanness of her youth was starting to show on her face, the many scowls she had over the years leaving gentle lines above her lips and between her neatly kept brows. Her hair was still the same rich brown it had been before, but now had silver weaved into the intricate braid she wore around her head, where a golden crown sat so that all would know her status.
His godmother sat alone at a long, empty table which had not seen company in some time, if the dust collecting on the chairs was any indicator. He glanced to the chair opposite her and knew that it's emptiness meant that she would be in a particularly foul mood, which did not fare well for his quest.
But the prince did not expect things to go his way.
They rarely did.
"Look who has returned to lick his wounds." His godmother drawled, her voice echoing softly in the room. She lifted her goblet to drink from it, looking over the top at him with a cruel stare. Her eyes were a pleasant honey color, the same as the pears that sat untouched in the crystal bowl on the table, joined by golden figs and black apples. "My darling, dear Godson." She spat, scowling as she rolled her wrists to stir the dark colored liquid in her cup. "I can only wonder why you have chosen to do so now after all this time apart..." She mocked.
"Where is your husband?" The prince asked as he slowly made his way down the table toward her.
"I don't care." The Godmother said sharply, looking him over with an accusing stare. "Why should I care when he so clearly cares so little about me?" She said bitterly as she motioned toward her cup, the bottle nearby sliding across the table to lift itself in the air and refill her gauntlet with pomegranate wine before the bottle set itself back down in its place near the cooked swan halfway down the table.
There was silence between them for a while, which was unusual for them.
Though the prince had always been a man of very few words, his Godmother was a woman who wanted the entire world to know whatever she felt the moment she felt it.
No one knew his godmother better than him - not even her husband, who his godmother was either attached to in lustful passion, or avoiding in utter loathing. There was no middle with the married pair, though if there had been one, The Prince would have found himself in it.
Their violent relationship that he had had to be an unwilling participant to his entire life was exactly why he had such an intense aversion to partnerships of his own - women terrified him because they reminded him so very much of the woman who had raised him under her iron fist, and men were not proven to be trustworthy due to the fact that all the men The Prince had ever known hadn't been.
The only person The Prince had ever loved and trusted had been his godchild.
But now he was gone.
His godmother began to drum her fingers against the arm of her chair again-
Taptaptaptap.
Taptaptaptap.
Taptaptaptap.
Taptaptaptap.
It was a sound that had followed The Prince his entire life, a sound his godmother made when irritated or bored.
Taptaptaptap.
Taptaptaptap.
God, how he detested that noise.
It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and his skin prickle with disgust.
Taptaptaptap.
"I don't suppose you have returned to me because you heard my husband has, again, left my side." His godmother said, her voice high in the way a child would speak when they were pouting. He shook his head a little and she sneered at him. "No. Of course not. Why would you care for me either, you awful child." She growled.
"I have come to plead for you to grant me a wish." The Prince said quietly, his voice trembling as he slowly got down onto a knee. He bowed his head as she looked down her nose at him coolly, the older woman taking a slow sip of her drink as she watched. "My entire life, I have demonstrated my obedience, fidelity and unwavering loyalty to you. I have served you as your Godchild, as the son of an ally, and as a man." He said as he stared at the floor, her gaze like icy daggers grinding into the top of his head. "My only instance of independence and free will has been in regards to my own Godchild, and I have come to plead for you to allow me one last act of selfishness in regards to him."
"Oh? One last act, then?" His Godmother drawled from above him. He remained silent.
"Please allow me to return to Avalon and retrieve my Godchild's corpse to give him a proper burial, so that he isn't left to rot in an open field." He asked carefully, screwing his eyes closed. "I have never asked anything of you, but I beg you." He swallowed thickly - "All I wish to do is bring him home to bury him."
"But you have no home." She said shortly. The Prince lifted his head to look up at her, confused. She took another drink from her cup before she fluttered her long lashes at him. "Neither of you do."
And with that, the little hope he had clung to since his beloved godchild's death slipped away. The Prince's shoulders slowly fell as he watched her lick the rich, red droplets from her painted lips, his godmother reaching out to put her cup down.
"You are a prince through your father, but his kingdom will not have you." She said sharply as she stared down the long table to the empty seat where her husband should be sitting. "You are a prince through your relation to me, but my kingdom will not have you." she said, turning her gaze to stare at the empty seat to her right, where her godchild should be sitting. "The kingdom of your godchild won't have either of you due to your godson's sins." She said, her gaze cutting to her godchild's blank expression. "Sins which have impacted my own standing, because he is the godchild of my godchild!" She said furiously, the plates and bowls on the table rattling with her agitation.
"I will build a pyre for him, then." He said as he slowly rose to his feet, his chin tilting down as he stared at her with a growing darkness in his gaze, a seething rage inherited form his godmother starting to bubble in his gut. "I only wish to see he is not left for the crows."
The darkness in The Prince's gaze was mirrored in his godmother's. "Being left for the crows is exactly the fate he deserves!" She hissed, the prince bristling as his face twisted with upset. "The consequence of your godchild's choices is that no kingdom will take him to bury him. The consequences of your choice to take him on as your godchild when I explicitly told you not to is that I will not allow you to remove him from where he met his fate." Though she felt her godchild's overwhelming distress - his anger, and his sorrow, and his deep, deep dispair. It was like acid in her veins, but she was unmoved, her expression cool as she watched tears well up in his eyes, drowning out the gold of his irises that reminded her so much of his father. "You and your godchild must face the consequences to your choices."
"As. Must. You." Her Godchild grounded out.
Unlike his Godchild, who was spared suffering by having met death swiftly through a wound atop his head, the prince choose not to grant his godmother the same gift.
The Prince Without a Kingdom drove his fist through his Godmother's heart.
As she scrambled at where his elbow orutruded out over her chest just underneath the golden owl that hung at her neck, confused and startled by his betrayal, he felt her pain as strongly as if it was his own.
He watched her die, and the pain in his head he obtained when his godchild died was now matched in intensity by the pain of the deathblow to his godmother. He placed his free hand on his godmother's shoulder before he slowly withdrew his arm from her chest and he watched her fall forward against the table, lifeless.
The Prince Without a Kingdom, for the first time in his entire life, was utterly alone.
And utterly alone was how he remained for the remainder of his very long life.
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