Another fucking meeting.

The voices around me sound more like that of the dull droning of bugs out by the lake on a hot summer day. They don’t make sense, and I really don’t care to listen to it while dreaming of doing something, anything, other than what I’m being forced to endure right now. It was enough to give my ADHD ADHD. I get it, this shit is important, but that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it.

Not to mention...

I STILL HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE WHAT I’M DOING!

Two months into my role as King and I still can’t tell you the difference between treaty negotiations and alliance formations. One of my advisors keeps bringing up some sort of tax to help fund this new program that’s supposed to help do something for someone somewhere. Someone else slaps down another stack of requests to have babies...

That many people want to reproduce?!

Owen is laying one piece of paper after another down in front of me. Requisitions, land buying deals, land selling deals, meeting requests.

I point to the name on the paper he just put down. “Isn’t he in America?”

Owen nods. “Yes, Sire, he’s the new council leader for the colony in Colorado. He wishes to—”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, great,” I wave away. “I just didn’t know he was a shapeshifter. I could have sworn he was a famous actor or singer or something.”

Leander smiles at my elbow as he rifles through a few more forms for me to review. “Our people may choose to remain separate from humans,” he chuckles, “but that doesn’t mean some don’t get curious and attempt to live like one.”

I frown and sink back in my chair with a heavy sigh, rubbing my temples as I feel another headache come on. The drone continues and it’s all I can do not to lose my shit. My gold and silver eyes shift to the large window nearby, the red around my pupils reflecting off the glass, my attention caught by the wave of trees as a breeze rustles through them. A few birds take off and I feel a pang in my chest and a tell-tale itch in my back.

When was the last time I went for a flight? Days? No...it was a few weeks ago when Evander and I went to the mountains for some much needed time alone. I unconsciously shift against the back of my chair, trying to ease the itch in my back and failing miserably. I perch my elbow on the arm of the chair and lean my head into my fingers, forcing myself to pay attention to this exercise in torture, and failing at that as well.

I think of Evander. Dammit, babe, where are you when I need you?

I glance at my phone resting on the table next to the stacks of forms and tap the screen a couple times. No new messages or missed calls. Yes, because that totally helps lower my irritation levels. I pick it up and twirl it in my fingers, squeezing it until I feel the screen crack. I stop my fidgeting and stare at the now spidered screen, the lock screen distorted, ruining the picture of me and Evander for good.

Just. Fucking. Super.

I toss it back on the table with an inaudible growl, annoyed even further now that I have to get yet another new phone. I’m not the only busy one, I get that. But when a man needs an excuse to duck out of his royal duties, and his fiancée with the really nice ass isn’t around to provide him one...he’s royally fucked. It’s made even worse when said man has effectively destroyed his main means of communication with his love...

I can feel someone’s eyes on me, and without turning my head, my gaze slides to Leander, his green eyes bright with knowing. He grins and clears his throat softly.

“Gentlemen,” he says, his low, soft voice carrying better than my own loud one does at times. “If I may suggest a walk around the gardens to clear our heads? It’s lovely out and I think it would be good to get some blood flowing after all this sitting around.”

Owen nodded, catching what his husband was tossing out, while the others missed it completely. “Yes, I think that’s a brilliant idea.” He rises from his seat, the others falling suit. I exhale loudly and drag myself out of my own chair.

“After you,” I mumble, letting my head advisors lead the way out of this study room toward the large doors that will take us to the Palace Gardens, a point of pride for Jonathan, who began designing them not long after his ex husband Jake was exiled from the colony along with Darion, and he needed something to keep himself from going ballistic.

It’s amazing the beauty that can come from bullshit.

Still, I didn’t come out here because Leander thinks a walk is what we all needed. I came out here because he was giving me a chance to escape.

As the rest of my advisors walk ahead, Leander hangs back slightly, just in front of me.

“Go ahead, son,” he says under his breath, motioning his head slightly to the right. “I’ll cover for you.”

My shoulders drop in relief. “I owe you one,” I reply in a whisper, and I quickly invoke my Dunamis cloaking magic, hiding myself from everyone present. I duck under a vine covered trellis, run through some trees, then immediately shift into my giant Royal Eagle form, maintaining my invisibility as I take off into the sky. Leander is probably going to catch crap (again) from Owen for letting me leave, but he can handle it. It’s not the first time he’s aided and abetted an escape attempt, and it sure as hell won’t be the last.

Owen probably just assumed I needed fresh air, not everyone else. Let him think it; he’s not entirely wrong. I need fresh air under my wings, space from that fucking palace, distance between myself and everything I never expected to fall into.

I never wanted to be a King, much less the most powerful one to exist in this period of time. I just wanted to be who I was before all of this. Daecon Doe. Multi-billionaire playboy with nice toys and a harem of fuckboys at my beck and call. I even feel a brief pang of guilt over what happened to my Boxter. Contrary to what Owen says, I did love driving, and I miss my little red Porsche.

Don’t get me wrong, I upgraded exponentially when I met Evander, and I’ve never been happier than I have been with him. But this whole King thing...

I push through the sky, going in no particular direction as fast as I can possibly go. Which, according to the crow I just made shit himself when I passed, is pretty goddamn fast. Even the sonic boom I leave in my wake doesn’t freak me out anymore. I must have been flying for hours, covering hundreds, if not thousands of kilometers before I finally spotted a nice place to land. Good thing, too, because it appears that I'm finding the limits of my stamina. My muscles were starting to burn, dragging me from my thoughts and commiserations long enough to acknowledge that I needed a break. I tuck my wings in, coming in low and slow, shifting into my hybrid form before I land on my feet in the middle of the woods that cover a mountainside, my wings dropping and dragging behind me the same way they did that first hour after I discovered them.

Owen would be outraged that I would show such disrespect to my glorious royal plumage, but again...I really have no fucks to give right now. It's not like the fucking things can get dirty anyhow, and I just want to be alone, to forget about what and who I am, if only for a little while. As tired and as irritated as I still was, though, I could feel a warmth emanating from the woods, soothing my sore wing joints and muscles, while at the same time calming my mind. I soaked up that relaxing energy as I made my way down the mountainside, seemingly drawn forward by an invisible thread I had to follow.

I walked out of the trees to discover an old house, destroyed, and open to the elements. It’s covered in vines, flowers, leaves, and all sorts of other wildlife; reclaimed by Mother Bitchin’ Nature Herself. I look around and notice that this place has seen some action. The ground is riddled with old scars, the house has holes and broken beams and wires everywhere. Even the last few trees I pass have blast burns in them.

My brow furrows. “Weird,” I mutter to myself. “Pretty, but...weird.”

I make my way through the ruins, lifting my wings just enough so they don’t get entangled in the detritus. I can hear glass crunching under my boots, hear the creaking of old wood from the remains of the roof, and spot old doors hanging off their frames from where they once sealed off bedrooms.

This was someone’s house once, one that was built with a purpose and a future in mind. I can feel a weird, powerful energy flowing around the place and it instantly relaxes me. With my hands in my pockets, I stop in the middle of the ruins and look up toward the staircase. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, focusing on the energy. I can’t help but smile as I hear the faint sounds of laughter coming from many voices, echoes of play-fighting, the scent of burning wood and cooked meat, whispers of love and promises in the fading light of day. All of it coming from some bright, distant past that can never be revisited.

I open my eyes and inhale deeply.

This was a home. Even if the house itself had been long destroyed, someone had made this property their playground, their training field, their place to grow friendships and relationships. Shadows floated up and down the staircase and along the upstairs hall. Doors opened and slammed shut. Music drifted from some room just behind me. There was a strong smell of fresh coffee coming from the crumbled remains of the kitchen.

And I swear to every god that exists, I saw a black cat with amber eyes leap down those stairs and strut in front of me before disappearing into the kitchen. There was a deep chuckle, an excited boyish voice, and the unmistakable sounds of messy lapping as the cat drank a favored milk dish.

“Is that goat’s milk?”

Even I had to chuckle softly as the ghostly memory played out before fading away completely. I shook my head and tugged on my soul patch, trying to hold on to the comforting vision, wanting to pretend that it was me getting a treat from my own father...

I grimace and the warmth fades away along with the vision. Dion wasn’t a bad father, necessarily. Just...incredibly fucking dishonest with a bullshit take on how to raise a son without letting him know he’s your son. Still...I did love him, and once I heard his reasons I’d even forgiven him...if he hadn’t died, maybe he could have stuck around to help me be the King he thought I should be.

But no... Stupid fucking prophecy. He said it was his time to go and I couldn’t fight fate, no matter how much I wanted to. So here I am... stuck as a King with no roadmap and precious little guidance to get me through this maze of weird terms, social niceties, political word play, and “No, Your Majesty, you can’t just do whatever you want.”

Ok, so maybe I haven’t totally forgiven him. Whatever.