Chapter Text
Ah, politics. The bane of my existence.
I’m not supposed to be in politics. I'm a farmer's son, Irish at that. I don't belong in a throne room. I don't belong caged in by cement walls.
I belong with the skies.
But here I stand, robes white against my slightly tan skin. I'm used to being in the sun, so I'm more tan than burnt, more human than the snakes in this court.
My gaze drifts away from the group of people to the singular opening in this room, a tall English window at my back. I look out at the singular piece of blue sky, the one piece of escape I may gain.
Stars, it's so… small here. Well, if the castle rooms were empty, they might be large, but still far too small for me. I don't live with a roof over my head.
Suddenly, a trumpet blows, and I startle, turning towards the front of the room, the large doors that are now cracking open to reveal my fate.
Four beautiful princes walk in, each of them taller than me, if even by half a centimeter. They are all handsome in their own way, different. One stands tall, a little skinny, with long brown hair draping to his shoulders under the golden crown atop his head. Another stands at my height, with brown hair I can only describe as fluffy, maybe feathery, in a barely controlled fringe under a silver crown. Another is a tan, raven-haired beauty, quiff holding up a crown made of obsidian. Finally, there stands a wide prince, light brown hair tickling at his ears and curling around the rose gold crown settled on his head.
They are the picture of beauty.
Pick your poison.
They each nod their heads to the crowd, who bows. I bow with them, the picture of a willing servant. When I raise, they each sit at a throne to match them. The first, with the gold crown, atop a golden chair, the silver crowned against a shimmering throne, the prince of shadow on a chair of night, the rose beauty atop one built for someone looking through pink lenses.
I adjust my robes, avoiding the eyes of the court. It doesn't even cover half of my chest, draping to reveal my pec and a slight hint of my abs, muscles I've worked long hours for. The golden chain around my waist is the one of the only things of value, other than maybe me, just barely holding the sheet of white together. If I were to shift it, I'd be embarrassed. My sides show through, the fabric draping around my knees in waves. There's another gold chain around my forehead, draping over my eyes like a veil and covering what my father said would make me so attractive.
See, my father owes… debt. Lots and lots of debt. He pulled a Beauty and The Beast and I offered to come instead, paying off his and my mother's debt. I would be theirs, the princes. Their slave. To punish, to use, to do… anything with. I mostly did it for Mama. Papa deserves it too, though, but it's also for Greg.
Greg.
Before I can sink into my thoughts, the court quiets, meaning something.
“Welcome to the Castle of the Four Kingdoms.” The Rose Prince rises from his seat, his arms spread wide. “The Castle of Larih.” He gestures to the Golden Prince, who stands at the end with his arms wide like the Rose Prince. “The Castle of Spemdre.” The Silver Prince rises. “The Castle of Vrocath.” The Obsidian Prince rises. “And the Castle of Faernia.” The Rose Prince gestures to himself.
“Welcome.” The Gold Prince says in English, his native language.
“Jedenair.” The Silver Prince says in Spemdrish, his native language.
“مرحباً." The Obsidian Prince says in Arabic, his native language.
“Fáilte.” The Rose Prince says in Irish, his and my native language.
“Thank you.” The court echoes, each in their own languages. The ringing in my ears from the echo just makes the walls seem even tighter, surrounded by voices belonging to people unknown.
“We have many problems to discuss, and we have come for a treaty. Apologies, but anyone who is not part of the immediate court may leave.” The Silver Prince says.
AKA, get out.
There are a few grumbles, but everyone leaves, leaving few people, just the princes, my father and I, and a couple more men.
“Robert Horan?” A man said, reading off a paper a step below the princes.
“Bobby, please.” My father stresses, clasping his hands together and not daring to meet the royalty's eyes.
“You have made us angry men, Bobby.” The speaker says, and the Golden Prince looks at his nails as if embarrassed by having someone else speak for him. “We would like what we are owed, your life or your slavery.”
Bobby releases a shaky breath. “I am a coward, Your Majesties. I am far too old to be any use to you. I introduce to you, someone who would love and cherish you better than I would.”
My insides twist as my father looks at me, who's been next to the window this whole time, half hidden behind a pillar.
“I would love to meet ‘im!” The Silver Prince says, unable to see me from his angle.
“Niall, come here.” My father summons, and I force a breath out of my mouth before stepping out of the shadows, my head bowed and the veil draped over my head.
I hear audible inhales as I step up to the bottom of the steps, head bowed. But I rebelliously don't bow as my father does, as if introducing me multiple times.
“Niall?” One of them asks, I believe the Golden Prince. I look through the veil to see them all stood up. “Good name.”
I duck my head, not pulling it up all of the way.
“Why do you cover his face?” The Rose Prince murmurs. My father takes a step closer to me, and I try not to smile at his protectiveness. I'm glad he still cares.
“I feel no need to put him in danger if you do not accept him instead of me.” My father says, and I'm not sure if it is brave or cowardly.
The speaker looks to his princes, and they nod.
“We will accept him.” The speaker says. “Your payment has been fulfilled. You are dismissed.”
My father looks at me suddenly. “But- my son-”
“It is alright, Papa.” I say, too quietly for them to hear, only the man who raised me. “You and Mother live well for me. Tell Greg I love him.”
Bobby nods, eyes watering, before he backs away. I watch through a blurry lens as he fades from view, the dirty rags on his back the last sight I'll ever see of my family.
A throat clears, and I go back to having my head bowed. “Well, I do believe we've earned seeing that face, eh?” The Silver Prince says, and I grit my teeth. I'm not sure if they've earned a single thing in their lives. Have they earned a burnt back and blisters on their hands? Have they earned a good stew after a long day of work?
I don't protest as they descend to my level, standing around me. I keep my eyes closed as I feel the veil be removed.
“Open your eyes, love.” I hear the Golden Prince murmur, and I shake my head, my eyes beginning to water and collect on my lashes. “Shh, we won't hurt you.” He says in a softer voice. “Do not be afraid to witness us.”
I slowly open my eyes, and they all gasp at the sight. I cringe, closing them up again. Because that's what's wrong with my eyes.
They are such a light blue they are almost white, fading into the rest of my eyes. My pupils have always been white, just a small circle of blue to show that I can see.
(<- dis a bit what they look like but more blue)
“Sorry.” I whisper, so softly that only one of them catches it. The Obsidian Prince, who has yet to say anything other than the greeting, tilts my face towards him, making my eyes open again.
“Don't be sorry for being beautiful, darling.” He says softly, his velvety voice sending a shiver down my spine.
“Don't ever talk down on yourself like that, Niall.” The Rose Prince says, running a knuckle down my temple.
My gaze shifts between them all, before glancing back at the ground.
“So, who gets him?” The speaker asks out of curiosity, and all hell breaks loose.
“Me. I want him!” The Silver Prince says at the same time the Golden one claims the same thing.
“Mine.” The Obsidian Prince whispers, and the Rose Prince grumbles, “He should be mine.”
They're all shouting at each other, except for the Obsidian one, and I take a step back. They don't notice that I've returned to the window, clinging to that piece of freedom. The rest of the court listens through the doors and windows, tucking under curtains to see the commotion.
It's too much noise. I hate it. I'm not sure what compels me to do it, maybe it's my fear, or maybe it's the herder in me.
I stick to fingers in my mouth and whistle, sharp and loud, a noise that stretches far across fields to notify the children for supper and the sheep to return to their pens. It echoes across the walls, silencing everyone.
“Hey!” I say loudly, even if I'm internally shaking. The fuck are you doing Niall what the fuck.
Jaws drop in shock, at me and my audacity. Okay, maybe it feels kind of good to silence these busybodies.
“Stop fighting!” I say, putting my hands out. “How about, instead of fighting, you guys actually worked together?” I say, directly to the four princes. They look at me in confusion. “Seriously? Are you all so proud that you can't make an alliance?”
They look between each other in guilt.
“Ugh. Here,” I force my voice strong, stepping a little closer. “Let's do it like this. If all of you want me, then you share me. Like, every week or month I switch to another prince. Then, you can actually make an alliance and then stop fighting and killing your people.”
There are a couple of gasps at my bluntness.
“Yes, you are killing your people. Every time you make a decision, people will fight over it, and every time you send us to war someone dies.” My glare doesn't retreat as I stare at them.
“Please, make an agreement. It doesn't have to go on like this to solve decisions. I will be all of yours.”
The princes look at me before looking at each other. “That…” the Golden one says. “I will do that. If it stops our people from dying.”
The Obsidian one nods, along with the Rose Prince.
“Fine.” The Silver one says. “It would be best.”
“Thank you.” I whisper, bowing with my hands clasped. Little do they know how much they've already cost me. But if I can save others…
“No,” the Rose one starts, and I startle, worried that he's going back on his agreement. “You do not bow. Not before us, not before kings, not before peasants.”
I inhale sharply as I look up at him through brunette locks. The other three are nodding.
“You are ours.” The Golden Prince says, and they all walk closer to me instead of making me come to them. “You are of highest rise, highest might, and may all of the world bow before you.”
My fingers tremble at the force of everyone's gaze, and they notice, gathering in a semi circle around me. “You needn't be afraid, angel.” The Silver Prince murmurs, his blue eyes softening. “We will protect you from vile whispers."
I nod, gaze flicking between them all. “Okay.”
“Who gets him first?” The speaker asks, and I’m getting really close to hating him. The princes don’t quarrel, however, just looking between each other as if there has always been an order.
“Vrocath.” Three say in unison, the Obsidian one offering an arm to me. I stare at it as if it’s a burnt pig fallen in the fire, before lifting my shaky hand to rest in his. He smooths his thumb over my knuckle.
“Never fear me.” He whispers. “Never fear anything, jaan, unless it is the day you pass on to the stars.”
I nod, and he kisses my knuckles. “Hold on tight, love.” He murmurs, tightening my grip on his hand as we fall into a fog of shadow, the room of the Castle fading into black.
🖤