Chapter 1: Atlas

Today was going great. Keyword being "was".

It all started when I had had enough of my personal tutor and decided to ditch mid-lesson. As soon as he turned to label his lame diagram, I took my chance and was out of there. By the time he looked back, all that he saw was the cloud of dust I left behind.

Can you really blame me, though? I mean, I already know about the different territories and the number of mines and the population ratio. I’ve been learning all this for years. Heck, I remember it like the back of my hand and can probably rehearse it in my sleep.

I don’t understand why Mother thinks I’m not capable enough and makes him keep reviewing all of these in regards to current issues. Like, dude, I know my news and I know my territories and I know how to put them both together. I don’t have to keep going over it. Get a life, dude. I would rather not waste my time on crap I already know.

Anyways, ignoring Mother’s blatant orders, I made my way to her garden party. I’m a simple guy. If I know of a place with great food and great people, I go there. …And maybe because of all the girls that Mother invited.

Of course, her huge array of guards tried to stop me but who even listens to those guys?

All I heard was, "Your Highness, I don’t think you should-" 

"Miss the party?" I cut him off "You’re totally right about that, Freddie."

I shove past him and barely register his "My name is Liam, Sir."

Mother’s decorators had done a pretty good job. The flower arrangement was great. All her favourite flowers were set up in vases, wreaths, and arches that wove around every corner of the royal courtyard. Not that I know the names of any. All I saw was a whole bunch of yellow, red and purple.

Anyway, I was abiding by my princely duties and "mingling" as Mother calls it. Mostly, for me, that meant hanging out by the drinks table away from Mother’s sight. And there’s always the added bonus of a flock of girls joining me every now and then.

That’s when it all went to hell.

It’s always entertaining the way every girl in high society is desperately fighting for my attention. Their snarky tones and their vocabulary of expressions create the sophisticated equivalent of the WWE. Sometimes, if I try hard enough, I can almost hear an excited commentator narrating their every action.

I was in one of such imaginings as several young women fluttered about me that evening. Every now and then, following the occasional pull of my arm, came a possessive glare aimed towards any and every other presence near me.

I was in my element. The centre of their attention. The sole focus of their existence. Of course, none of these people truly cared about me as much the fame that comes with my name and power. 

I was so lost in my glory that I made the mistake of forgetting one of my most basic rules: I gave one my attention. 

Dinah Somerhille has been bothering me for as long as I’ve known her. She believes that just because her mother has known mine for a great while, she somehow has the guaranteed spot of my wife and the future queen. She’s delusional that’s for sure. 

Well, delusional or not, I have to admit that she has gotten quite pretty over the years. She used to be this frail little thing who tripped over thin air but now she’s matured quite a lot. Socialising at these events so comfortably.

When she found her way to me, I found it hard not to give in to her sultry gaze. I set my drink on the table beside me and reached out to kiss the back of her hand.

"Your Grace", she smiled, "I wasn’t sure you would be here today."

"Here? Where else would you find me, if not at my home?"

"I meant this party of course" she quickly corrected. "I wasn’t sure you would be attending"

Lifting my glass, I took a sip from my previously abandoned drink, "I’m not supposed to" 

"Well you always have been a rule breaker haven’t you"

I grinned at her from the rim of my glass. I mean now that I think about it, that kind of was a rookie mistake. I mean leaving my drink unattended. Granted it was at my own home but still. I mean the palace is the place most likely to host untrustworthy people. I was met with her shocked expression as the world went black.

***

Ugh. My head is throbbing.

"–ness" 

And why in the world is it so loud?

"–las"

"Your Highness! Can you hear me?"

"Alright! Alright! I’m up!" I call out. Mostly to block out the overlapping noise.

I crack my eyes open and immediately wish I hadn’t. The light is blinding. Why did Mother have the curtains pulled open? I prefer it dark in my room. It gives me space to think. I strain to pull myself up. My muscles feeling like jelly as I finally sit up against the fluffed-up pillows on my bed. 

"Atlas, darling!", Mother’s worried voice reaches me, "Are you alright? What happened? I was worried sick! You simply must not scare me lik-"

"Easy Mum!" I cut off her rambling. "You’re going a mile a minute. I can barely understand you. I did just block out you know"

"Of course, darling. You are absolutely right, I’ll stop right away." She bends to kiss my forehead.

"Your Majesty," says Doctor Anderson, the royal doctor, from the foot of my bed, "It is also of utmost importance for His Highness to monitor his diet for the next few days at the very least. Thankfully, this was not a major incident, however, I would encourage complete bed rest for the rest of the day." he hands a slip of paper — a prescription? — to my aide.

"Yes thank yo–" 

Mother cut me off, "Right after you tell me what exactly you were thinking?!"

Oh no. She’s mad. Nope. She’s fuming. Mother does not like being disobeyed. The servants quietly show Dr Anderson out of my room away from the incoming shitstorm. I wish I could leave too right about now. I would rather not be on its receiving end.

"Mum, I–"

"You will not interrupt me, young man," she practically shouts. 

I snap my mouth shut.

"My direct orders. Direct orders. Is it so hard to follow instructions Atlas? I even summarised it for you: You are not permitted in my garden party under any circumstances. Not even if my life is at stake. Is that so hard to understand?" 

"Well I–," I try.

"I am not finished!" Mother snaps.

She sighs, rubbing her temple in an attempt to soothe her anger. "I remind you time and time again how dangerous the world is. There are bad people out there who want us gone, want us dead so they can take our power. This wasn’t simply a spiked drink, Atlas. It was an assassination attempt against the heir to the throne of Siortia"

"Treason," I realise.

"Precisely. That was a threat to your life, Atlas. This is serious. It’s not just some minor incident, darling." 

"I understand, Mother". And I do. I could have died because of a spiked drink. I mean what a dumb way to go. Anyone would hate to be known as "The Drugged Prince", dead or alive.

"Good. And you understand where I am going with this?" 

"Yes completely. And I promise you I will be more careful from now on." Careful about being in the range of her knowledge, that is.

"Excellent. So, you can begin the recruitment process tomorrow then? You simply must understand just how large of a responsibility this is."

"Absolut- wait what? Recruitment?"

"Yes? For your personal guard?" Mother deadpans like that much is obvious. 

Huh?!

"Personal guard?" I am so confused right now. 

"All right, bodyguard then?" She suggests, "Escort? Protector?"

"Wait wait wait! Stop! Let’s start from scratch." I am having a hard time wrapping my head around what she’s saying. "You want me to hire a bodyguard? For myself? Why?"

"Well for starters, darling, you aren’t exactly responsible enough to be let alone."

"Excuse me?" I gape.

"I mean you clearly can’t be trusted following instructio–"

"Mother! I am 23!" I protest "I do not need to be monitored!"

Mother isn’t having any of this. She dives into a string of lectures, periodically listing each and every single one of my faults and how my behaviour has justified this exact response. 

"Honestly, darling, at least I am letting you choose."

"Well yes but–", I pause.

That is actually perfect for me. Fine. If Mother wants to play her cards this way, she can expect to get outsmarted. I get to choose my own escort, meaning I can make their recruitment process hard as hell. None of the candidates would even want to stay.  They’ll turn on their heels and run away faster than Mother can blink. I mean, it's not really my fault if they leave on their own accord right? It's on them, for not being able to handle the job. This is brilliant. 

"–you’re right. I should look after my safety." I finish.

"Excellent. Oh, I knew I could count on you, darling."

Oh, Mother. If only you knew what’s to come.