JON

“After you, my lord.” Flynn Claymore gestured as both he and Jon made their way out of the bedchamber. Jon’s eyes flung onto the two guards clad in black capes fastened to silver armour, who were stationed just outside, questioning himself inwardly as he fixed his gaze upon their stiff bodies.

These guys, were they here when the prince died? 

That’s impossible. There’s no way. If he had enough time to write down his cause of death, then he must have been able to call for help. 

There’s no way they could have been here… right?

Jon’s eyes turned to Flynn. “The guards, did they ever leave this door?” he asked, his chest tightening with each word he poured out, knowing that whatever answer he received would determine how bad his situation was. 

Flynn’s eyebrows twitched in astonishment. He bowed his head slightly as he quickly replied, “never, my lord. They wouldn’t dare.” 

Jon’s heart hit against his rib cage. The answer had solidified his fear. If they were here and gave no heed to the prince’s cry for help, then the situation he had stumbled into was much more deadlier than he thought, unless… the prince never called for help, and chose to write down his cause of death instead, which made no sense. Jon thought to himself, his head hurting more and more with every slight pressure he put on his brain. 

Jon turned over to the guards, and as he was about to question them, Flynn cut in. “My lord, we are past the time for your enthronement, we have to proceed to the royal hall now. Tardiness would not be the best of impressions on your first day as king.”

With that, Jon swallowed his words and chose to advance to the royal hall instead, saying to himself as he walked as elegantly as he could behind Flynn, through the corridors lined with unlit torches—its windows hanging high in the walls, letting in silver rays of light, “I’ll question them once I get back.” 

“Brother!” a young and cheerful voice called out to Jon as he and Flynn escaped the confinement of the corridor, and into a wider and more open space. “Why are you so late? Did sucking on a maiden’s tit make you dull?” Thaddeus said, folding his arms as he gave a mocking grin. His black hair which curled backwards smoothly, shined beautifully, and his brown eyes glowed with nothing short of mischief. He wore brown high-quality leather doublets, and from his neck, hung a small chain made of gold. His dressing was befitting of no one less than a noble. 

“Thaddeus! Where in King’s city did you learn to speak such words? Have you been sneaking out again?” Thalia placed her hands on his shoulders as she reprimanded him, her voice, soft and calm. Her social status glowed perfectly from her dressing. A golden gown made of silk, and a full skirt which flowed down from her waist, creating a bell-shaped silhouette. The overlay bodice of the gown fitted with a high-collar adorned with jewelries, and on her beautiful dark hair, sat a small golden crown. There was no mistaking who or what she was. She was a queen.  

“Leave me be mother. I am no longer a child,” Thaddeus said as he forced his shoulders free from her gentle grasp. “It is quite normal for me to know what I know.” 

“Oh, no it’s not. You are but a boy of ten. You’re still too young to speak of such things.” She placed her hands once again on his shoulder. 

Thaddeus gnashed his teeth in frustration, and then turned over to Jon who approached them along with Flynn. “Brother, command mother to unhand me, you’re the king, are you not?” 

I see… Jon thought as he studied both Thalia and Thaddeus. His family, huh? A brat for a brother, and a gentle mother. 

I wonder what his personality was. Jon thought about the body’s original soul for a moment. 

“Zephyr is my son too, Thaddeus. Have you forgotten?” Thalia chuckled as she leaned closely to Thaddeus’s ear. 

Zephyr? This body’s name. Well, I guess that has become my name now as well… Jon resigned himself to the reality that his identity was no longer what it used to be before he transmigrated. 

By the way, I can’t continue to remain silent in this situation. What would this Zephyr guy have said? 

“Brother!” Thaddeus wailed, insisting his brother adhered to his needs. 

I need to say something. I have to blend in to prevent drawing suspicions to myself… 

“Just let him be, Mother,” Zephyr said, waving his hand dismissively. “He would have learnt about tits sooner or later.” 

“You’re too soft on him, Zephyr. You have to learn to be hard on him sometimes,” Thalia said, rubbing her forehead in exasperation. 

Zephyr’s lips twitched as he replied in return, “I could say the same for you, Mother.” 

“My Queens, My Lady, My Lords,” Flynn greeted as he bowed, placing his fist on his chest. And just then, Zephyr noticed the four other people standing at a distance from them. 

A woman adorned in dress similar to Thalia's, only different in that it had a colour of flame. Two young men and a lady, all three who looked no older than he was. The man who looked the eldest of the three, had brown hair and a stern face, and wore a thick black coat with a golden chain hanging around his neck. The second man, who had a more approachable expression, wore a brown leather tunic adorned with golden embroideries across its collar, complementing his brown hair. The lady, who kept combing her long brown silky hair, avoiding Zephyr’s gaze as she stared into the ground instead, wore a blue gown designed perfectly to fit her body shape and bring out her beauty. 

“We should head in now, my lord,” Flynn bowed slightly as he gestured for Zephyr to make his way into the royal hall. Unsure of his relationship with the other four, Zephyr chooses to walk past them without speaking a word, rousing a rather delicate matter which he had not expected.

“Oh look, Mother. The bastard speaks no word to us now that he’s about to become king,” Damon, the stern looking of the two young men, mocked, halting Zephyr’s advance to the royal hall. 

Bastard? Zephyr wallowed in confusion as he glanced at them. 

“Leave him be, Damon. The king might have your head if provoked. You do not want to die at the hands of a bastard now, do we?” Ophelia, Damon’s mother and also queen, said, provoking Thalia’s rage as her calm voice took a fiery tone. 

“You dare not speak of my son such way, Ophelia. I will not stand for such dishonour,” Thalia flamed. 

“Oh pardon me, Thalia. I just find it uncanny that a bastard ascends the throne rather than a trueborn.” 

“My son is not a bastard! I will have you take that back.”

“Oh please, you still say that after all this time.” 

“Ophelia!” Thalia’s visible anger grew with every word that poured out of Ophelia’s mouth. 

“Mother…” Dante, the mirthful, more approachable looking young man, tried to reign in his mother, “...trouble them no further. It is no time to fight. Father spat at such bickering as well.” 

Zephyr remained silent as he watched, carefully arranging his thoughts as he accessed the situation. 

Looking at them, there’s no mistaking why they call him, or rather, me a bastard. I look so much different from every single one of them, and with what’s going on here, I’m not so sure their father looked anything like me either… Well, at the end of the day it doesn’t matter… Zephyr sighed, noticed only by Aria, who chose to keep combing her hair despite the heated situation.

Anyway, I have to say something to stop this bickering, it’s getting me nowhere. But what can I say? 

Zephyr let out a slight exhale. “It doesn’t matter what you think of me,” he said, silencing them. “If you deem me a bastard, then so be it. But I’ll have you know, this bastard shall become king, and this bastard shall rule.” 

What did I just do? Zephyr’s inner thoughts differed greatly from the demeanour he had chosen to pass across with his words. 

“Aren’t you being rather presumptuous, bastard?” Damon glared, his eyes glinting with intensity and ferocity like a wolf’s unwavering stare locked on to its prey. 

“You’re free to leave, Damon. Do not attend the enthronement if you so wish—but sooner than later, you’ll have no choice but to answer to me as king, or I will have your head...” Zephyr provoked Damon further, “...and you will have no bastards of your own to father.” 

I just made things worse, didn’t I? 

Looking at what just transpired, there’s no doubt they’re suspects of the murder as well; then all I’m just doing right now is nothing but hastening my death by provoking them—but…

“Is that a threat?” Damon said, snapping Zephyr’s consciousness back to him. 

“Oh, nothing of such,” Zephyr said. “Make haste Flynn, we are late for the enthronement, aren’t we? Let’s go mother, Thaddeus.” 

…This farce might just equally be my only chance of survival in this world…

Thalia let out a proud chuckle as she placed her hand on Thaddeus’s head. 

“Mother, hands off my hair. You’re ruining it,” Thaddeus let out a cry as he brushed his mother’s hand from his head. 

“Sorry, Thaddeus. It’s just that your brother has grown so much, has he not?” Thalia laughed lightly as they advanced behind Zephyr and Flynn to the royal hall, whose large door stood no more than a few steps ahead of them, leaving behind Ophelia and her children to follow behind whenever they pleased.