‘Tim,’ though an experienced cook and gardener, had been confined to a mere maid, not even a butler. He gazed at the pudding he had prepared for both him and the king; “Can you do this?” questioned Gabrio. “I need to do this - for our families. For our home.” reassured ‘Tim.’

Gabrio’s younger brother Espero nodded, silently placing his signature singular yellow dandelion on top of one of the puddings; he had been chosen as the head cook for the King and Queen because of the soft sweetness and simplicity of his dishes.

‘Tim’ took the bowl with shaking hands; he held onto it tightly as he made his way to the King’s chambers, his movements slow with aspiration. 

He knocked on the large oak door and waited silently. His lips curled with dread, a cold sweat encased his whole body, but he couldn’t turn back - he had to do this. 

King Drake’s gruff voice called out, “enter, servant.”

It was devoid of the enthusiasm he displayed towards other nobles - it was authoritative, grisly. 

‘Tim’ weakly pushed open the large oak door, engraved with images of riches and beasts, “your breakfast, your Highness.”

King Drake didn’t even lift his head in acknowledgment, he sat pouring over the various history books gruesomely detailing the strategies within many wars and battles - they drowned the vintage mahogany desk, gifted from generation to generation. 

“Your Highness, Chef has requested your opinion on this dish.”

“What for?”

‘Tim’ choked on his vacillation, “he desires to prepare this for Queen Sereanna, and he knows of her critical nature. He wishes for his Majesty’s thoughts.”

King Drake raised his hand and shooed him away, “have the cook make me something filling - perhaps pork and bread - oh, and lather it in butter.”

“But, your Highness,” he implored, “he greatly desires your opinion. If you shall just take one bite, I assure you-”

“Silence. I have no time to involve myself in such trivial matters. If he desires my opinion so greatly, then have him make the dish for my tea time.”

‘Tim’ bit his lip, his heart pounding in anguish from his failure, “yes, your Highness, Chef will be informed of your wishes right away.”

He wasted no time in leaving the room. His face remained transfixed on the floor as he briskly made his way to the kitchen, failure burning throughout his mind to his heart. 

“You are back!” Gabrio shouted with relief, “and he has eaten it?”

‘Tim’ looked at him in defeat, placing the untouched pudding on the table, “he has ordered for a large breakfast of pork and buttered bread.”

Espiro bowed, ushered them out of the kitchen, and left to go to the storage room.

Gabrio stared at ‘Tim,’ biting his inner lip; he saw the defeat within his heart and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, “the King will eat your pudding. It is only a matter of time. He will eat it if the Queen does, so we just-”

“He must eat it whilst I have, locking eyes with me. We have to be alone, for it is too risky to accomplish the mission and risk him locking eyes with another.”

Gabrio nodded his head, “it is only a matter of time,” he reassured. 

・・・

‘Tim,’ having a heavy heart drowned in defeat, wished only to retire to his sleeping chambers. He had Espiro bring the King his breakfast; however, he could not return to his room like he wanted, because Prince Savera just so happened to need an assistant with something. That something was… not even told to ‘Tim,’ the Prince just dragged him away from his oh-so-precious-most-treasured bed.

“Here we are,” announced Prince Savera, opening the door to his sleeping chambers, “you will help me prepare for this evening’s festivities.”

“Have your maid do it.”

“She is busy helping my mother, so you’ll have to do.”

‘Tim’ groaned and threw open the closet, “what do you want to wear?”

“Does it matter? Just pull something out.”

He turned back, “Do you not pick out your own clothes?”

“No, Mevira does that.”

‘Tim’ squinted in disbelief, “dude,” he looked at him, “get over here and pick out your own clothes.”

Prince Savera rose from the bed, walked over and stared at the clothes intently; he pulled out a bright, lime green shirt, “there.”

“Pull out pants too.”

He groaned and turned back, “umm, I guess,” he reached in and randomly pulled out a pair of neon red slacks, “these.”

‘Tim’ stared at him in disgust, “nevermind, I will do it.” He reached into the closet and immediately pulled out a pair of navy blue dress pants and a sleek light beige silk button-up, “this will do.”

Prince Savera stared in hurt confusion, “what was wrong with the clothes I picked, huh?”

“They were a fashion crime.”

“You know I can have you jailed for insulting me, right?”

‘Tim’ stared at him, deadpan, “that would be a blessing, your highness.”

Prince Savera snatched the pants from his hands, “whatever. You’re here to help me, not be snarky.” He began undressing whilst ‘Tim,’ flustered, walked to the vanity desk and began arranging the makeup for easy access.

“What type of makeup are you doing today?”

Prince Savera looked up at him, stopping mid-way from buttoning up his shirt. 

“Well? Does Mevira choose that too?”

His head slumped to the floor; he continued buttoning up his shirt, “yes, she does that too.”

“Well,” ‘Tim’ started putting the makeup away, “how about you not wear makeup for today?”

Prince Savera looked at him, confused, “but I have to wear it, or else people will notice the discoloration in my skin.”

He sighed, walked over to him, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, “so? Your skin is different, and so is mine. It does not make us any less human, or it does not mean you are unworthy of respect,” he paused and smirked, “you are not worthy of respect because you are an idiot, not because you have patches in your skin.”

Prince Savera laughed, “I should have you executed for that!” He wiped a small tear from his eye, “thank you, Tim.”

‘Tim’ removed his hand and covered his mouth, “actually, my real name is We-”

“Prince Savera,” shouted a maid whilst she knocked on the door, “the Majesties request your presence for dinner.”

“Coming!” Prince Savera rushed to put on his gloves; he paused before opening the door, turning back to look at a discomforted ‘Tim,’ “thank you again, Tim, I really appreciate it.” He smiled and then rushed out the door. 

‘Tim’ stood in a disheartened silence. 

・・・

Savera walked briskly across the cold floor, desperately avoiding the reflection within the marble; palpitation stained his forehead as he anxiously fixed his gloves, ‘breathe, okay, just breathe.’ He stopped and inhaled deeply, but his exhalation was overtaken by his nerves. 

‘Everything will be fine,’ he reassured himself, ‘everything is fine.’

He took another deep breath before informing the maid that he was ready; she pushed open the door to the conservatory, “your Majesties, now entering his Royal Highness Prince Savera.”

Every muscle, every nerve in his body, froze as he locked eyes with his father. 

“Well, hurry on now! I’m getting impatient here!” smiled his mother, immediately thawing the ice encasing his body.

He kept his head low as his movements grew tense; as he pulled the chair out from under the table, he was greeted by a small, lone Lily flower. He carefully lifted it, sat down, and then placed it on his lap. 

“Hey,” Aleanna whispered in his direction, “what’s wrong with your face?”

He scowled at her.

“Everyone,” King Drake announced, “we have decided that, tomorrow, we will be attending the carnival in Everfree. Have your affairs in order before dawn.”

“How fun, Drake, but will you also be attending?” Sereanna stared at him with a cheeky smirk.

“Of course! I will be supervising the sports festivities, and-” he threw his arm around Richard and lightly shook him, “I expect Dicky here to participate in the archery contest.”

“Whatever will get you to stop moving your mouth.”

Drake let out an earthly, joyous howl as he patted Richard’s shoulder.

As the Kings and Queens began discussing their affairs and rising excitement over the carnival, Aleanna stared at Savera, unsure as to why white patches suddenly adorned his face; she decided she wouldn’t question it for now and instead would ask him about it later. She took a large bite of the vegetable pottage, but her tastebuds were disappointed at the taste, ‘I want more of that pudding that Tim made.’ Suddenly she perked up, ‘if I find Tim before he has to be in his chambers, then I can convince him to quickly make some pudding. I’ll ask him to leave it on the counter, then sneak out of my room around midnight… Yes, everyone should be asleep by then!’ She proudly smiled to herself as she chomped garishly on the toasted, buttered wheat bread. 

Savera stared at her in disgust, ‘what a pig.’ She met his gaze and stuck her tongue out while placing her index finger and thumb in an L formation on her forehead in response to his grumpish expression. 

“Aww, you two are so cute!” squealed Queen Victoria, “oh I just cannot for when you two are married!”

Savera and Aleanna stared at her in disgusted confusion, then looked at each other, then her, then each other, then their fathers, then back at her. Everyone, except them, erupted in laughter.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know.” snarked Queen Sereanna. 

“I didn’t! And I don’t want to marry this bozo!” contested Aleanna.

“Yes, trust me, that klutz is not my type. I have no desire to marry her; you couldn’t pay me enough to.”

“Oh, don’t be that way, my son,” Queen Victoria stood up and held his head to her chest, “you have to marry her.”

He pulled away sharply, “no! She’s yappy and childish! She’s- she’s a chihuahua!”

“Savera.” King Drake’s voice was stern, a sword slicing the banter, the atmosphere grew tense. He stood and held his head high, talking down to his son, “you are acting childish right now. It is for the good of the kingdom. You will marry Princess Aleanna, you have no choice in the matter.”

Savera hung his head low, biting his lip in humiliation and apprehension.

“Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” He turned towards his exit, and shakily walked towards it, “I’m going to retire to my chambers for the afternoon.”

・・・

His presence was not requested for the rest of the afternoon nor the evening. He laid across his bed, his scrunched face drowned in his pillows. His curtains darkened the room, only allowing a few small strips of sunlight to escape from the bottom. 

Three soft knocks broke the silence of the room, followed by the familiar raspy, soft voice, “Your majesty, you alright?”

Prince Savera merely groaned in response. He weakly lifted himself up once he heard the door open, “why must you bother me, Tim?”

‘Tim’ sighed and walked over to the night table, he placed down a small tray of fruits, steamed vegetables, and a large piece of buttered bread, “you have not been out since dinner.” He pulled the large comforter off, tossing it to the floor. Prince Savera merely glared at him. 

‘Tim’ stared back at him, tapping his foot; he motioned to the food, “eat.”

“No.”

“You have to eat something.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Do not make me force-feed you.”

Prince Savera scowled at him, “you wouldn’t dare.”

‘Tim’ raised his eyes and laughed, “you want to make a bet on that?” He grabbed a handful of grapes, jumped on top of him, and attempted to force the grapes in his mouth, “eat!”

Prince Savera pulled away, “no!” As he pushed back, his arm slid across the silk fabric; his upper body fell towards the floor with ‘Tim’ toppling over on top of him. ‘Tim’ had caught himself by straightening out his arms, which caused the grapes in his hand to be turned into juice as they collided with the sanded timber. He watched the clumps of mush fall from his hand to the floor.

Prince Savera looked up at ‘Tim,’ his face flushed with humiliation. He slid himself out from under him, covering his face with his left palm, his right clutching his shirt. 

‘Tim’ sighed, “why will you not eat?”

“I just- I just,” he stuttered, “I don’t know, really. I just don’t want to.”

“You barely eat your meals as it is, so you should not be missing one.”

“Please stop. Just leave me.”

‘Tim’ stared at him, hurt by his plea. He looked down, “my name is not ‘Tim.’”

Prince Savera looked up at him with confusion.

“My name is Wematin,” he continued, “I was forced to come here.”

“Why?”

“My tribe fought against your kingdom. The people were taking our land, running the animals away, they cut off our trade with our friend tribes…”

He stopped, his chest tightened with anguish as he thought about the brutality his people had gone through. His closed his eyes tightly, remembering his family, and remembering the night the forest was ablaze with hatred; the suffocating aroma of the blood and smoke, the screams of his people, overpowered by the harsh words of the invaders; his mother’s embrace, his face pushed against her chest, her hand protectively covering his head.

“I’m sorry,” Prince Savera softly said whilst lowering his head.

“After we fought back, all the men and boys had to come here to work in the palace,” he finally stood up, fixing his uniform, “there is not many of us left.”

“It must be lonely without your friends and family.”

“Yes, but I have made friends here, so it is not so bad.”

“That’s good.”

An awkward silence flooded the room; they occasionally glanced at each other, but that was it.

“I will come back later, for the tray. Um – please eat.” stammered Wematin

“Yeah, yes – uh – thank you… Wematin.”

Wematin smiled, gave a small bow, and left a blushing Prince Savera to his thoughts – his new-found promiscuous thoughts.