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The first time Jayce meets the King, it is through the eyes of his seven years old self.
The memory is hazy and some details might be wrong, but Jayce remembers sitting in the living room of his parents’ house, playing with a wooden horse that his father had crafted for him. The toy was worn from his greasy hands, it was a miracle that the wood had not started to splinter, his father had crafted the horse on Jayce’s third birthday while he had been sleeping. When his mother had knelt to his bed to wake him up, his father had stood behind her with the horse in his hands and with tired eyes, Jayce had watched the strong man kneel down next to his wife and offered him the toy. If he had not been so engrossed in the toy and if he had been slightly older, Jayce would have seen the adoration in their eyes, the tears in his mother’s eyes as she watched her child, their gift to the world hug the wood that her husband had carved for him. He would have seen the smile, so rare but always genuine, on his father’s face as he watched his creations interact with each other.
Jayce was making his horse race a wooden soldier when the knock had rattled the door of their home but he had paid it no mind though, aware of his mother’s presence near him and that his father was somewhere in the house, probably in his workshop. Jayce’s mother had called for her husband, stating that she couldn’t leave the fire burning as she cooked their dinner and soon after, Jayce could hear and see his father’s heavy boots trudge through the room to reach the door.
His interest had peaked as soon as his father had appeared and Jayce turned around on the floor, watching his father open the door to a small crowd of armed men protecting a tall figure. His father bowed to them, saying a few words that the kid couldn’t catch from his spot.
“Mister Talis,” the tall man had started and Jayce couldn’t help but notice how rich his voice sounded, how formal and carefully researched his words were, though tainted by the slight curve of an accent, “I come to you for another request, I believe we are well acquainted now seeing as I reached out for you only a few months ago for one of my children.”
Mister Talis, Jayce’s father, nodded at his words. “It would be an honor to help you in your request once again, Highness.”
The last word made Jayce freeze. Paying more attention to the clothes of the man from the small view he had on him, Jayce could see traces of gold on his red cloak, the fabric itself looked impossibly soft and the pieces in Jayce’s brain clicked to form one word: King. His father was talking with the King. Putting his horse down to the floor, Jayce folded his hands on his thighs and watched the interaction with the wonder and admiration that only a child could possess.
One of the guards behind the King shifted on his feet, clearly bored of the situation. “My request is simple,” the King started, “you see, my youngest son suffers from some sort of malformation on his right leg, the kind that will leave him limping for the rest of his life.” There is detachment in his voice, like he doesn’t want to acknowledge that the child is his, it makes Jayce frown. “I only ask of you that you make him a cane, or a crutch. Whatever will help him walk, poor child, it pains me to see him hold onto the walls and furniture for dear life.”
Jayce’s father nods again, his head dipping lower than is normal to show his gratitude. “Of course, Highness. Shall I bring it to you when it is done? I believe by tomorrow it will be ready for your son.” The King nods vigorously at his words.
“Yes, yes, bring it tomorrow, I will warn my guards in advance and send a carriage to your house.” Then, the King does something that makes Jayce’s blood freeze in surprise. The King leans on his right side to see beyond his father’s shoulder and stares at Jayce. His eyes are piercing despite their darkness, with the light of the sun behind him. “Bring your son with you.”
Jayce can see his father’s back straighten as he asks, “My son?” The King leans back.
“Yes! I’m sure Viktor will be pleased to meet a boy his age.” And with these words, the King turns on his heels and marches back to his coach.
Mister Talis does not move from his spot at the door, where he seems rooted until any trace of the King is gone. Then and only then does he turn around to look at his son with wide eyes. He blinks once, twice until his wife marches over and asks him who it was.
“It was the King.” The man states plainly, still staring at Jayce but with less intensity, like he’s not really staring at him.
“Oh?” Jayce’s mother says, marching them over to the table where they both sit down. “What did he want?”
His father folds his arms on the table. “He wants me to make a cane.” When the woman in front of him doesn’t answer apart from a confused frown, he adds; “For his son.”
She gasps, slightly horrified. “Oh! Is he okay? Which one? Was he injured in battle?” But his father shakes his head at her questions.
“No, Ximena.” He sighs, like he is suddenly exhausted. “It’s for his youngest, born with a bad leg from what he told me.” He looks at Jayce again. “Same age as Jayce, makes me wonder why they didn’t make a cane for the kid sooner, poor kid is just limping around their palace.”
Ximena Talis shakes her head, “Poor kid. The King is probably embarrassed by him.”
It is Jayce who speaks up next, still sitting on the floor. “Why would he be embarrassed, mama?”
His parents’ heads snap to look at him as if they’d forgotten his presence, they probably had. Jayce couldn’t blame them, the King knocking at their door was a big deal.
His mother sighs, “These people live publicly, they need a perfect appearance to be liked by their people, to be respected.”
But Jayce frowns, confused. “But he’s just a kid? Like me? Why should he care what others think of him?” It makes no sense to Jayce, as far as he knows, the King is King, not his children so why should be held to the same high standards as their father?
His mother smiles sadly at him. “Yes, honey, he is just a kid, but he is the kid of the King. And you understand how important the King’s appearance is, his family is an extension of him therefore his childrens’ appearances need to be as perfect as his.”
Jayce frowns, still confused, still believing that this makes no sense but still, a small part of him is excited to see the King’s youngest son tomorrow because his existence has always been kept rather secret. The King had shared with his people the birth of his son seven years ago but beyond that, nobody until now even knew if the child was still alive or not.
The next morning, Jayce was awoken by his father gently shaking his shoulder and reminding him in a gentle voice that he needed to get ready in case the King’s carriage arrived soon, since the man had not given an exact time of arrival.
As he got ready, Jayce could feel the anxiety of his father slowly bleeding into him. The man was pacing around the house, checking and double checking that his present for the King was perfect, that the wood had been polished, that he’d applied the right varnish? Jayce found himself pacing around his own room, clenching his wooden horse to his chest.
Soon enough, the sound of hooves and wheels reached his ears and he ran to the living room to meet with his dad. The man was already opening the door and so Jayce slipped outside with him, though not before giving his mother a goodbye kiss.
Inside the carriage was warm and Jayce marveled at the rich fabric that decorated the walls of the vehicle, he could see his father watching him with a soft smile gracing his tense features from the corner of his eyes, he had a white-knuckled grip on the package across his lap.
The ride from their home to the palace must have taken them no more than ten minutes. Jayce excitedly jumped off the carriage to stare at the palace. He had always seen it from far away, always wondered what it was like inside, what it was like to be inside and now that he was there, Jayce couldn’t help but feel a little bit like royalty himself.
Two guards came to them, Jayce stared at them with wide eyes and his jaw on the floor. They were not like the ones he’d seen ride through his village with armors and weapons at the ready, the guards standing before him were dressed in a deep blue with gold accents, a sword resting against their hips and black gloves that let no skin show, a simple helmet rested atop their heads with the same design as their uniforms. One of the guards instructed the father and son duo to follow them and the other smiled at Jayce, making his jaw fall underground.
Jayce followed the guards through corridors along with his father, he found himself subconsciously mimicking their walk and posture.
Amazed by all that there was to see inside the palace, Jayce almost ran into walls multiple times. Finally, they reached a closed door where two other guards were posted, staring straight ahead with a hand resting permanently on the hilt of their swords. The guards that had led them through the palace nodded at their colleagues and one of them stepped forward to knock on the tall door before opening it.
The room looked like a ballroom with its polished floor and walls decorated with portraits and various scenes of life alike. Though it was smaller than a ballroom, it still took them more than ten steps to reach the deep end of the room where three chairs dominated the space. The King was sitting on the chair to the left, the one closer to the window, he was wearing different clothes than the ones he’d wore the day before at their house but still looked like the definition of formal and serious with his elbows resting on the armrests of the chair and his legs crossed. On the second chair sat a child, the King’s child, his youngest son, dwarfed by the size of the chair he’d been placed in. The boy was looking down at the hands on his lap, twisting his fingers with apprehension, the mop of hair on his head was hiding any features on his face which made Jayce even more curious about the boy. His eyes traveled to the boy’s legs, noting how stiff and crooked the right one seemed, how the tip of his toes touched the heel of his left foot, the leg spasmed from time to time.
Jayce slid his gaze to the last chair where a beautiful woman was smiling at him, the smile of a mother that immediately eased the tension in his body. The Queen’s hair was done in a smart coiffure high on her head with jewellery weaved through her dark brown hair, exposing her soft collarbones and her neck that was decorated with a pearl necklace. The soft makeup on her face accentuated the pallor of her skin, porcelaine-like in how delicate it looked, Jayce could find her sharp cheekbones on her son’s face, though his were obviously far less pronounced than hers.
Next to him, Jayce’s father bowed, careful of the package in his arms, and Jayce rushed to imitate him, he felt ridiculous as he stared at the floor.
“I have your package, Highness.” Jayce’s father spoke the first words in the room, his voice booming through the room even though he’d tried to be quiet.
The King nodded and with a wave of his hand and a firm voice, he ordered his son to get up from the chair. Jayce watched the boy struggle to get up from the chair, gripping the armrests as he planted his left foot on the ground, followed by his right one though the motion seemed uncoordinated. On instinct, Jayce’s father took a step forward to make it easier for the child but a stern hand from the King made him freeze in place. “Let him.” The King said, his voice cold as he stared at his son. “Today marks a new day, Viktor.” He started, never taking his eyes off the crooked form of his son. “A day where you finally become someone other than the cripple of the Kingdom.”
Jayce frowned at the King, feeling anger course through his veins at the way the man spoke to his son. He looked at the Queen, who had a hand on the back of her son to help him in case his balance failed him, she was frowning at her husband, just like Jayce was but her features softened when she looked back to her son.
The boy was standing now with both of his hands gripping the armrest of the chair, favoring his left leg and letting his right one drag uselessly on the floor. Jayce could see his stronger leg was beginning to shake.
“Walk, my son for this is your last day of struggle.” The King ordered, leaning forward on his chair.
“Vadim.” The Queen snapped with a thick accent, glaring at her husband, but the man ignored her call. Next to her, the boy took a deep breath and braced himself.
Jayce watched with muted horror as the boy took a hesitant step with his bad leg, his foot dragged on the ground with barely any mobility, and-
In the blink of an eye, the boy had collapsed to the ground and Jayce rushed to him without even thinking. Kneeling down, Jayce tried to catch the boy’s eyes but found it impossible from how intensely he was burning holes through the floor with them. “Are you okay?” Jayce asked, placing a hand on his shoulder, the boy was shaking.
“Yes” was all the boy said, Jayce didn’t comment on the tremor in his voice.
“Majesty,” Jayce’s father said from above him, “may I?” Jayce did not bother to look up to see their response, instead he kept his eyes trained on the boy in front of him who had shifted on the floor to sit down more comfortably.
Jayce startled when his father knelt beside him and set the bundle in his arms on the floor. “Viktor?” His voice was gentle, the same voice he used whenever Jayce would hurt himself in his workshop. When his father had learned the name of the child Jayce had no idea, but he was happy to finally put a name to the face. The boy, Viktor, lifted his face to look at the man in front of him and Jayce felt his heart break all over again, the boy’s almost golden eyes looked impossibly sad with tears close to breaking through the dam he had built in them. Jayce’s father smiled at the boy, “I have a present for you, Viktor.” He said, gesturing to the package on the floor.
With delicate fingers, Viktor lifted a corner of the fabric and then another. Focused on the boy’s face until now, the gasp he let out made Jayce look down at the present.
“It’s a simple wooden cane.” His father started to explain and Jayce grinned proudly, knowing what was coming. His favorite part of watching his father create was listening to him explain how his creations came to be. “I made it with the wood I had in my workshop, carved it myself. It’s not my first cane so it should be sturdy, you can get violent with it, it won’t break.” He added with a smile, it widened when the boy scoffed. “I’m sorry it’s not more intricate, I didn’t have a lot of materials or time so I kept the design pretty simple. But I suggest you try it now, while I’m here, just to get a grip on how it works, which way is more comfortable for you and more importantly if there’s anything wrong with it so I can correct it as soon as possible.”
Viktor nodded at his words, listening intently even as he stared at the cane and brushed his fingers along the wood in wonderment. “Thank you.” He whispered gratefully, staring at the man with unshed tears. Jayce’s father smiled warmly at him.
“Would you like to try it?” He asked, still smiling, his eyes flickered to the King and the Queen who had been watching the interaction in silence. Jayce looked at the Queen and was relieved to see her smiling at her son with an immeasurable amount of love in her eyes. The same could not be said about King Vadim, who was staring at them with an unreadable expression, his cold eyes watching Jayce’s father’s every movement.
The boy nodded excitedly, already gathering himself to stand up.
“Do you need help?” Jayce asked timidly but the boy shook his head, glaring at him with a newfound determination. So Jayce watched him slowly lift himself up from the floor, pushing himself to stand up with his good leg. Jayce handed him the cane and the boy took it with a smile.
Viktor planted the cane on the floor, the handle fitting perfectly in his palm. For a minute, he stayed immobile, trying to familiarize himself with the device before he turned around, pivoting on the cane to face his mother. “Mother, look!” He exclaimed excitedly, taking a step toward her with the help of the cane. “I am walking!” Jayce cheered with him, the Queen looked ready to burst into sobs as she watched her boy stand for the first time in his life without a grimace of pain or tears in his eyes.
“Come hug me, then.” The Queen said in her soft voice, her thick foreign accent bending her words into a melody that reminded Jayce of the comfort of his own mother. Viktor hobbled over to her, still unsteady and unfamiliar with the cane but walking .
Watching Viktor throw himself in his mother’s arms, Jayce vowed to himself to become like his father, his hero. He vowed to only do good in this world, to offer kindness as his own money to anyone who might need it.
Viktor turned around in the embrace to look at Jayce and the boy smiled at the prince, beaming when his smile was returned. The Queen whispered something in his ear and Viktor nodded vigorously before detaching himself from her arms and walking to Jayce.
Jayce slid a quick glance to his father who seemed to be talking seriously with the King, before refocusing on Viktor, who was now standing in front of him.
Viktor glanced at the men before rolling his eyes. “They talk business.” He stated in the same accent as his mother. “Do you want to see my toys?” He then asks with a shrug.
And Jayce also shrugs, “Sure.”
After spending an hour with Viktor while their fathers ‘talked business’ as the boy had said, it was time for Jayce to leave.
In the carriage, empty handed and much more relaxed, Mister Talis observed the trees rush by. Jayce watched him with pride.
“I don’t like the King.” He said with the elegance and the tact of a child which prompted his father to burst into laughter.
“Me neither, kiddo.” He said, ruffling his son’s hair with his fist, which made him squeal and duck away from his hand.
Settling back into his seat, Jayce looked outside the window. “But I like the Prince.” He stated absentmindedly.
“Oh yeah?” Cam his father’s voice, curious and maybe a bit teasing if Jayce dug deeper into his tone.
Still looking outside, Jayce shrugged, “He’s funny.”
“You guys had fun while we talked?” Jayce turned his head to look at his dad, the man was smiling at him, soft and gentle as ever. Jayce wondered why his father seemed to love him so much, and why Viktor’s father seemed to only see him as an inconvenience.
Jayce nodded, “Yeah.” He yawned, feeling his eyes lose against the exhaustion. “I wish we could be friends, he seems so lonely.” He closed his eyes.
“Maybe in another life.” Jayce heard his father hum. “Go to sleep, Talisman.” He said, softer than ever, brushing a strand of hair from Jayce’s forehead, but Jayce was already out like a light against the cushioned seat of the carriage, unbothered by the vehicle’s jumps and already dreaming of a boy with a cane.