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The sound of slamming doors moved through the castle at an alarming pace. The servants, human or not, decided to swiftly pick up any sort of work that kept them out of the path of the living hurricane that now rushed down the hallway and in the direction of the private chambers.
"Prince Angus, will you stop already!"
"You aren't the boss of me!", came the response, the young prince's words jumping into falsetto as his voice broke.
The royal herald caught up to him just before the prince could storm into his room and lock him out. With a rather dangerous leap he overtook Angus, slamming the door shut in front of the boy's face, and positioned himself in front of it.
Angus came to a sliding halt, fear and rage battling on his features. Eventually, he stepped back, crossing his arms. "I said No."
"It's necessary, your highness."
"I don't care if it's necessary. I'm not going!"
The herald sighed internally. When he'd been asked to take over Ser Proletius' duty as royal advisor and personal bodyguard for the prince, he hadn't expected it to include dealing with a ten-year old who thought he needed disclipline like a donkey needed scales.
Angus tried to get past, but McGonagall didn't move. He wished the value of a disciplinary slap was more accepted within these walls, but royal advisor or not, he valued his head on his shoulders.
"And why, pray tell, do you intend on not going?"
"I don't want to!"
Herald McGonagall merely raised an eyebrow. That cool, detached expression was enough to make the young prince explode.
"Stop mocking me! I hate you! I hate everything! I hate training, and eagles, and my father-"
"Lower your voice, Prince Angus, before the king hears-"
"So what? I'm not worried about him! Fuc-"
"Stifle your anger, your highness, or you will have me to worry about. This behavior is unbefitting a McFife."
Not only Angus froze at the voice. Topazulon McGonagall felt himself tense up as Ser Proletius approached them, entirely calm in the wake of his prince's wrath.
Despite being a head shorter than the herald, Proletius had the kind of presence that made people respect him instantly, yet without the air of brutality that surrounded the Hootsman.
Proletius waved the herald away, who gladly took the offer.
Angus came out of his paralysis, and dashed for his door.
Proletius was faster. He put his foot between door and frame – not without cursing at the pain it caused, having removed his armour just minutes before – and dragged it open. Prince Angus retreated across the room, though he jumped a little when he looked out the window, and rather moved over to the bed.
The knight positioned himself in the door, but didn't close it. "I'm away for a few days and the first thing I hear when I return is that you've been giving your trainers nothing but trouble," he said. "I don't remember you like this, my prince."
"I'm done doing what I'm told!", Angus snapped. His voice broke, unable to hide the tears that wanted to spill out. He was, after all, only a boy. "I don't want to do this anymore!"
"Do what?"
"Everything! All these, these, banquets, and the fighting, and the ceremonies, and training and, and..."
Proletius mustered him, noting how the prince refused to go near the window, even when Proletius stepped closer and the boy retreated. Proletius closed the door behind himself and advanced into the middle of the room, without infringing on the space Prince Angus kept between them.
"I hear you fell during training," he said.
Angus shook his head, though the sudden whiteness of his cheeks betrayed him. He retreated further, hiding his bandaged arm, where the eagle had taken out a good three inches of skin as he'd caught the prince.
"You need to be able to ride an eagle, even if you later decide you will never do so."
"Eagles are stupid, I don't want to train anymore."
If his first exposure to flying had been a battle dive and nearly getting ripped to shreds as an eagle saved him from falling to his death, Proletius thought, he'd not be keen on flying either.
"Very well," the knight said. "No more training today."
Angus blinked at him. "Really?"
"Of course. Instead, I think some studies of our wonderful country will be more to your liking. You need to know Fife, after all."
Ser Proletius went over to the window and opened it, letting in a rush of spring air. He whistled, once, soon hearing it answered by the beating of wings. Aquilus sailed past the window once before settling himself on the balcony one floor below, his feathered back only a few feet from the window.
Prince Angus stared at the knight. "That's not what studies are."
"Not all studies need to happen in dusty libraries," Proletius answered. "It's much more memorable to see something than to merely read about it. Aquilus will enjoy the exercise."
The prince had slowly advanced, staring out the window and down on the eagle, patiently waiting for them to board. The tears he'd tried so hard to hold back found their way down his cheeks, his voice tiny as he said: "I can't."
Proletius offered the prince the safety strap that should be standard by now, but were far too often forgotten even by his own men. "It won't be dangerous," the knight promised.
"No training?"
"No training. Just a leisure trip. How about we take a look at Schiehallion, or Dunkeld?" He looked out the window, calculating the time until sundown. "If we're quick, perhaps we could even go see if the Loch Ness dragon shows itself."
"Loch Ness?", the prince whispered. He'd always wanted to go there. He had no idea how far away it was, but certainly too far to just... go there. His father had forbidden him from even asking about it since relations to the Questlords were sour at best.
Proletius smiled to himself as the prince dashed for his coat. Within a few seconds, the prince had draped himself into a thick cloak. He let Ser Proletius place him on the eagle's back, before the knight climbed on after him and secured their safety straps to Aquilus' harness.
The prince was shaking like a leaf in a storm, but he relaxed a bit when Ser Proletius positioned himself behind the prince, allowing the child to huddle against him.
"Ready?"
"Ready."
"Then off to Inverness we go."
Aquilus leapt into the sky, his massive wings making the window panes rattle as they sailed upwards, leaving Dundee behind at breathtaking speed.
Prince Angus had never chosen this life. But he needed to be able to fly without fear, and it was Ser Proletius duty to teach him.
And, well, if they could spite the Questlords while doing so...
that was just the cherry on top, wasn't it?