Chapter Text
Artemis stood by the fireplace, his back pushed against the wall.
His gaze was unmoving from the fire. “Does it remind you of home?”
A man's voice near echoes in the room. Artemis turned around quickly.
He stared at him for a second before letting out a short, unamused laugh.
“If only you were the first person to ever ask me that.”
“Did you laugh the first time you heard it?”.
He asked the prince, intrigued. “You know I didn't fall from the sun. None of us did not really.”
His voice was sharp yet calm. “Could've fooled me,”
he said desperately, trying to make light in the conversation.
“Are you?”. Artemis asks quickly. “Am I what?” “a fool.” “I'd like to think otherwise.”
“And I like to think of myself as a god.” “Are you?” “No. But that was obvious, wasn't it?”
said Artemis quickly in reply, his tone snarky.
He let out a short, defeated laugh. “Can’t argue with that.”
“Can’t argue with a prince.” “Right.”he said quietly.
“Who are you? You're clearly some kind of guard, but I've never seen our guard in such armor.”
“Ser Eric, my prince. Your father appointed me king’s guard.”
Eric's words are met with silence. “Figured I should come and introduce myself.”
“with a joke?” “Didn't realize it would cause offense.” Artemis scoffed slightly but not out of annoyance.
“Who said I was offended?” Artemis says, his voice noticeably softer than before.
“I apologize, my prince." said the guard; his voice was quiet, almost embarrassed.
"Don't." said the prince sharply. "Okay. I won't."
The prince nodded and looked back to the fire.
"Are there any other reasons you're speaking to me? Usually my father sends his guards to speak to me for his own reasons."
"Your father didn't send me; I'm not his guard."
The prince looked up at him, his expression confused. "Then whose guard are you?"
he asked, his voice perplexed. The guard perked up a softness in his eyes.
"Yours, my prince." The prince scoffed, his expression one of distaste.
"Why would I need a guard? I'm not in any danger." The guard shrugged.
"I can't speak for the king, but he seemed very adamant." "I see."
The prince bites his nails and turns back to the fire, a silence between them.
The silence was quickly interrupted by the large, heavy door to the prince's lounge being opened.
Eric and Artemis turned their heads very quickly. Artemis was almost startled.
"Ser Eric, it's been nearly 15 minutes since I sent you to collect the prince for dinner."
The king says quickly and angrily. "I-I'm sorry, my king. I thought it would only be appropriate for me to introduce myself to the prince."
"I don't care," said the king angrily.
"Are you just going to stand there? The food will get cold for God's sake."
The king muttered under his breath. The prince let out a quiet laugh at the guard as he walked past him.
"He didn't send you, huh?" The prince teased the guard. "liar."
he said with a small snicker, his voice a whisper. "I'm still not his guard."
The guard whispered back to the prince as they walked behind the king.
"Still a liar." said the prince quietly. Ser Eric looked down at Artemis and shook his head with a quiet laugh.
"Whatever you say, my prince."
The prince stood out at the table with his family for reasons anyone could see.
He was different from the rest of them; he had dark black hair compared to his
family's almost unnatural shade of gold. His skin was pale, his family having skin kissed by the sun.
His veins looked a stark blue against his skin, his family having golden, almost red veins.
His eyes were deeply sunken in, appearing kissed by the moon, while his family never looked tired.
He was skinny, his brother and father possessing muscles that resembled gods.
He inherited all of his mother's worst features, and if there was beauty in him, it wasn't on the surface.
His family acknowledged his differences despite hardly speaking of them.
His place in the family was quick to be known from the day he was born.
He brought shame upon his family. An obvious bastard born of a queen is one of the most disgraceful things one can be.
It's not to say the prince wasn't loved, his mother loved him despite her resentment she harbored for him.
And it was never his fault, of course; it was never his fault.
His mother took another man into her bed. It was never his fault; she didn't get rid of him. It was never his fault.
The shame that reigned down upon them was never his fault; he sat at the end of the table and was the last heir, despite his youngest brother being only 9 months old.
None of it was his fault. But it didn't matter whose fault it was; he was a bastard and different from them.
Whether they were allowed to speak it or not, it was the cold, hard truth.
The table was set with all of the family sitting around it, staring at their plates of untouched dinner.
His father and mother sat to the right, his brother sat to the left, his sister sat right next to his brother, and his little siblings, the twins, did not sit at the dinner table as they were not old enough to.
Artemis sat at the end of the table, which was not far away from them, but it showed his place clearly enough.
not allowed to sit with the prince and princess and not allowed to be close to the queen and king.
He would've rather been not allowed to eat at the royal table like his little siblings, but if he had to eat with them, he'd only realize how someone who can hardly say coherent sentences has more claim to the throne than he does.
"How was practice today, Regor?" The queen asked the eldest prince. "Great. They let us use the whores as target practice."
Said the prince, his tone flat. Artemis knows he's lying, trying to get a rise out of their mother, and it's almost pathetic how well it works.
"They did what?!" "We didn't actually shoot the whores, mother." the prince laughed.
"God, Regor. I wish you wouldn't joke with such impolite humor." The queen said, visibly disappointed in the prince.
The prince only let out a snicker. "And you, Leitha?" said the queen, turning her head to her eldest daughter.
"Oh, um... studies were good." Leitha was always like this, spoke as if she was surprised people wanted to hear her talk.
That always annoyed the prince, Artemis, beyond no end.
She was loved, and she knew it, so why did she always insist on acting like she was a disgrace?
Why did she always insist on acting like she was him? The queen nodded.
"The twins have started trying to walk," said the queen.
It was normal for them to not ask Artemis how his day was, as he was not allowed to fight the way his brother did, and it was never a good idea for boys to participate in the same classes as their sisters. Artemis studied, and he was better at his studies than his siblings, but that didn't mean it mattered; it never mattered to anyone.
“Really?" said Regor.
"Yes, which is surprising given you three were all late bloomers,"
said the queen, giving Artemis a small smile, wanting him to note how she included him.
"I thought Art started walking early? No?" said Leitha.
"No, Artemis started talking early," said the king. The king rarely spoke at dinner unless to correct someone.
"Oh," said Leitha. "Still earlier than us," said Regor. He always found a way to belittle Artemis.
"Watch it."
said the queen, her tone stern. "What? I'm just saying none of us started talking early, including father."
said Regor, his tone almost accusatory. "Regor!" snapped the queen.
Regor turned his head up quickly. "What?" said Regor, his tone harsh.
"Regor, stop." said Artemis. "I'm sorry, I don't recall anyone giving you permission to speak." said Regor.
The queen slammed her hand against the table. "Must I remind you of your place at this table, Regor?!"
said the queen Her voice was raised and angry. "Must I remind you of his?"
said the prince as he rose from his seat.
His voice sounded cracked. The queen stared at him somewhat out of shock but mostly out of anger; you could nearly see it coursing through her veins.
"Apologize to your queen and your brother right this instant."
said the queen coldly. 'Your queen and your brother'—the sentence almost made Artemis laugh; even to his own mother, he wasn't seen as a prince.
"Why?" said Regor, his voice loud and hurt. "Apologize," said the queen sternly.
The older prince looked at his mother and his younger brother and scoffed.
"Now, Regor!" yelled the queen. Regor flinched slightly as she yelled; he turned to his younger brother.
"I'm sorry." said Regor, his tone flat. "I'm sorry, mother."
he said when he turned his head to the queen, the scar on his neck straining as he did so.
The queen had nodded in reply to the prince. "Thank you." she said to him.
Regor turned his head to his brother.
"Do you have anything to say?" said Regor. "Sorry, I didn't know I was given permission to speak."
Artemis spat back at him. Regor scoffed and shook his head.
Leitha watches as Regor's hand slowly reaches for his dinner knife.
"Don't you dare." said Leitha in a whisper, her tone stern like a warning.
She looked up at him, her eyes like daggers. "Or what?" Said Regor quietly.
"Mother will hang me?" Said Regor loud enough for anyone in the room to hear.
Artemis' face turns to shock as he laughs silently with his hand over his mouth.
If everyone wasn't already looking at Regor, they certainly were now.
Their eyes all had fallen to him. The emotions behind them ranged from pure shock to red-hot anger.
Scoffs that border the line of laughter can be heard from the princess and the younger prince.
Regor's outbursts were normal, expected even, but he had never gotten this bold, this violent, and this harsh with his words.
"Don't."
said the queen sternly. She was noticeably shaken from either anger or fear of what the older boy would say next.
"Am I lying, Mother?" asked Regor. "Who do you think you are?"
The queen rose from her seat.
"Everything that I have ever done was to protect you. You wouldn't have just a scar on your neck if it wasn't for me. You wouldn't have a head if it wasn't for me."
said the queen, her tone harsh and her voice quiet.
"Am I above that to you?" said Regor quietly. "Am I above being hung by my own mother?"
"Enough!" yelled the king, who had kept his head down for the entirety of the argument.
Regor shifted his eyes and turned to the king, but he looked as if he could hardly look him in the eye.
"Dear gods, boy, haven't you said enough? Done enough damage?"
said the king. Regor's entire demeanor changed; his anger turned to guilt, and his disdain turned to sadness.
He looked down at the table and nodded. "If you aren't going to apologize, then leave the table and free us all of this headache." said the king.
Regor nodded and pushed himself out of his chair and began walking out of the room, the guards opening the doors for him.
His personal guard started to follow him out of the room. "Don't follow me."
said Regor to the guard. The king had returned to eating, everyone else silent and their hands not even on the table.
"Well eat!" said the king sternly. Leitha had begun to cry silently.
"Gods don't cry, Leitha." Said Artemis, clearly annoyed.
"You don't ever care, Art." said Leitha, her voice breaking.
"I do care, Leitha; I just don’t know what else you expect from him!"
Shouted Artemis. "You didn't know him; it doesn't pain you to hear him be talked about!"
shouted Leitha. "Stop this!" the queen yelled over them.
"Go to your rooms, both of you!" yelled the queen.
"Darling, let's not—" said the king. "No!" shouted the queen over him.
"You may take your plates to your rooms, but you are not to bicker and yell at each other so long as you're at my table,"
said the queen as she stood up out of her chair, dropping her napkin on her plate.
"And you, my wife?" asked the king. "I am going to see my son." she said coldly.
She walked out of the dining room, her guard following her.
The prince and princess leave shortly after the queen, their ways parting in the hallway.
Artemis walked down the long corridors to his room, his guard right behind him.
Regor's bedroom was close to his, requiring him to have walked past it in order to get to his own bedroom.
He heard talking coming from Regor's bedroom.
Artemis was an intrusive person by nature, something he inherited from his mother.
He stopped the second he heard the voices from his brother's room.
As he got closer, he heard crying that was almost hysterical.
"I'm sorry, Mother, I just—I just really miss Deimos." Regor's voice was loud, loud enough to hear it cracking and breaking through the door.
"Shhh, I know, I know."
He heard the queen comforting his brother. He felt a sickness rise in his stomach.
He hated hearing him like this; it only made Artemis feel guilty for treating him cruelly despite how heinous Regor was to him.
He felt moments like these existed to remind him that it wasn't Regor's fault he was this way; it wasn't his fault he was the way he was.
"We should keep walking, my prince," said Ser Eric, his voice in a whisper. Artemis nodded.
"Right." The prince and guard walked down to the end of the corridor in silence.
"You don't seem affected by the events of tonight." said the guard suddenly.
"Why would I be?" asked the prince. "Most would be."
"I've seen him do this more times than I can care to count." Ser Eric nods.
"It's not his fault he's like this," said the prince.
"Whose fault is it?" "no ones. It was circumstance... tragic circumstances."
"Would I be out of turn to ask what happened to him, my prince?"
"When Regor was 8, our older brother Deimos snapped.
My mother woke up to the sound of people yelling coming from Deimos' bedroom.
When she got there, she saw Regor on the floor in front of Deimos, blood running down his neck and a knife in Deimos' hand.
My father was just standing there; he didn't know what to do, and the guards were just as useless.
So she grabbed a dagger from my father and ran to protect Regor from Deimos. " "Did she kill him?"
"No, she took out his eye. He was hung the next day, and Regor was forced to watch."
"I can't imagine." "Don't be sorry. Deimos tried to kill him; he should be happy that he's even alive."
Ser Eric nods. A silence falls upon them. "I should get some sleep."
said the prince. "Of course, my prince." said the guard as he opened the princes bedroom door for him.
The prince stood in his doorway before turning to the guard.
"Ser Eric?" "Yes, my prince?"
"Don't tell anyone I told you about Deimos? My family has tried desperately hard to bury that part of our history."
"You have my word." "Thank you, Ser Eric." "Goodnight, my prince." "Goodnight, my guard."