“If you’ll forgive your old man, my dears; I have business and ruling to attend to. Farewell, for now.” King Vernio stood from his chair, making everywhere he sat a throne, and hurriedly turned and left. His footsteps thundered, echoed, and stole away his regal presence.

    Queen Seyna huffed awkwardly and faced her stepson, both of whom cared deeply about Young but could not seem to agree with each other on various matters. Prince Elden had many things to say today, and it was odd because he typically never had such mouth to say much.

“S-Stepmother Seyna…” He addressed her, unnaturally, since the main spokesperson had left them. The sound of his voice swam thickly through the air. He’d said it with a tilt of his chin and the frustrated clearing of his throat, preparing to depart himself, but the Queen then spoke.

 “You may call me ‘mother’ if you like, Froiclaud, we’re—”

“You are not my mother,” he said, voice raised. Though seemingly disrespectful, this time he spoke to be heard.  Muttering was his constant habit, the one he needed desperately to abandon.

“Only my mother called me Froiclaud. You can’t- you cannot replace her,” he said sternly.

    The Queen clasped her hands modestly and eyed him fiercely but silently. Fire flickered in the overhead chandeliers. Late birdsong crept in from the single glowing window. Elden had slightly shifted his body away from her, eyes searching the painting on the wall opposite of the Queen for something to distract himself from his guilt. “Forgive me. Queen Seyna.”

The prince spun his coattails and walked out into the corridor of smooth stones and historic tapestry, leaving the Queen muttering ashamedly to herself.

Prince Elden tried in the eyes of his father King, but served one Queen only; his true mother, who was no longer there.