The heavy oak doors burst open to the lavish chambers. They were larger than back when he was young, but even now, being grand in size and extravagant in detail, they were still utterly undone by the chaos within. The Countess strode inside, followed by Adrian, and then the servants, and threw open the curtains. The room was filled with sunlight and the fresh morning breeze in an instant.
The crown prince's chamber glowed like a dream painted in gold, but it was the boy within it who commanded the morning. The bed was a storm of silks, blankets tangled and fallen, pale-green embroidery crumpled like trampled banners. Amidst the ruin he lay, shirtless, half-turned in sleep, as if even in rest he fought against the cage of perfection around him.
His hair, rich and golden, caught the sunlight pouring in through the towering windows, each strand lit until it gleamed like a crown of fire. The handsome face he had grown into, fine-boned and proud, was softened in sleep, though the faint frown tugging at his brow betrayed the unrest beneath. Long lashes threw shadows across his cheeks, his lips parted slightly as though the morning light itself had intruded on a dream he did not wish to leave.
The windows behind him blazed, their curtains drawn wide so that the chamber was drenched in radiance. Light reached for him greedily, painting the curve of his shoulders, the pale line of his throat, gilding the rise and fall of his chest. The nightgown he had abandoned lay draped over a chair in exile, a silent witness to his discomfort, while his boots and gloves rested in careless disarray near the vanity crowded with flowers and letters.
The chamber around him was vast and heavy with grandeur. The ceiling stretched high above, its panels carved with gilt laurels and painted with pale constellations that seemed to shimmer in the light. A chandelier of crystal hung like a frozen cascade, scattering fragments of firelight across the polished floor. Enormous windows soared nearly from floor to ceiling, their curtains of cream and green pinned back with thick golden cords, letting the morning pour in until the very air seemed gilded.
By the walls, marble columns rose like pale sentinels, their bases crowded with low tables inlaid with ivory and mother-of-pearl. A great fireplace yawned opposite the bed, its marble mantle burdened with candelabras and clocks, the ashes beneath faintly perfumed with yesterday's fire. A vanity table rested beneath one window, overflowing with blooms, though their elegance was undermined by the prince's clutter, gloves tossed carelessly aside, letters spread like fallen leaves, boots slumped beneath the sill.
It was a chamber of majesty, every detail designed to exalt a crown. Yet in that sea of velvet, marble, and light, it was the prince himself, golden, unguarded, restless, who drew the eye and held it, as though the whole room had been built simply to frame his existence.
"Twenty years old," the Countess' loud voice cut through the business of the servants, as sharp as the sunlight itself, "Twenty years old, and still you live like an infant! A prince who cannot even keep his chamber fit for a dog, let alone a king." She tugged his abandoned nightgown from the chair with a scowl, shaking it as though it were proof of some deep personal failing.
Leander Halycra groaned in his sleep, picking up a nearby pillow to bury his face in, which was soon snatched by his nanny. "Shame on you!"
"Nanny-..." he whined. Wrapping the crumpled up blankets around him like a cocoon, he turned his back to the irritated Countess.
"Get up, Leander Halycra." She attempted to yank the blankets off too, but she'd gotten older, and Leander leaner.
"You are aware that I'm not wearing anything under these sheets, right?" he mumbled as he gathered up the blankets once again and tried to doze off.
"Then get up and put something on instead of lying here shamelessly in front of the servants!" she shot back.
He turned to face her, offended. "I am shameless? You're the one intruding in my personal-"
"Intrude, my foot. Get up!" She walked away from the bed to gather the clothes he discarded on a velvet chaise.
As she retreated from the bed, someone else hopped on instead.
Leander tiredly cracked open an eye to find a pair of light pinks staring back curiously at him.
"Brother Lee, is it true you sleep without any clothes on?" Adrian asked bluntly. His innocence was endearing.
"What do you think, Adrian?" Lee's tone reeked of sarcasm, yet Adrian was clueless.
"Really? You do? How do you not get cold?" He poked Lee's nose.
"Who knows?" The prince fixed him with a slow, half-lidded stare. The frown on his handsome face deepened, though his lips twitched with the faintest hint of amusement. He let his head fall back with a sigh, golden hair spilling into the sunlight like a crown he hadn't chosen to wear.
As he moved away from the light and dragged himself up slowly, it caught Adrian's hair instead. Pure white locks reflected the glow and the room felt a hundred times more luminous.
Leander covered his eyes, groaning, before calling out to Sabrina, "Nanny! Where are my clothes?"
"Stop shouting!" A velvet robe sailed across the room and landed on his shoulder with a soft thump. He quickly got up and put it on.
He also noticed how some maids caught a glimpse and were fumbling to hide their faces, but he paid no mind. He was used to undressing in front of both genders, it didn't matter to him anymore.
The boy stretched, yawning, then wearily made his way to the bathroom. Seeing how he finally got out of bed, the Countess arranged his clothes for the day and laid them neatly on the bed, telling his attendants to help him dress when he came out.
As he stepped inside the bathroom, the scent of roses and soap enveloped him. There were a few of his attendants waiting in the bathroom, ready with their towels.
No need to tell them to prepare the bathwater then.
The door shut with a soft click as he padded towards the mighty hot tub in the middle of the room. Steam rose in wisps as rose petals floated on the surface of the milky water, accompanied by bubbles.
Yawning, he let the robe fall from his shoulders and sank into the water. The warmth embraced him like silk against skin, curling around him with a quiet, tender insistence. That was the cue for his attendants to gather around him and help him wash up.
. . .
The Dining Hall had not changed over the years, but the faces around its long table had. The mighty wooden seat at the head, once imposing, had been replaced with a softer, cushioned one, its occupant now prone to back pain in his advancing years. On his right sat the same woman, her forehead lined with faint wrinkles, her hair streaked with gray.
But the rest? They seemed to have gotten more and more striking as they grew up.
Next to the head of the table sat 20 year old Leander Halycra, his sharp cheekbones seemed to cut through the air itself.
Beside him, seventeen year old Thalia sipped elegantly at her tea, long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail as the ribbons fluttered in the light breeze.
Damian, now fifteen, sat opposite to her, velvet green eyes darting about the room as his silver cufflinks caught the light with every subtle movement.
Next to him, who had just turned twelve, Adrian's snow-white hair caught the sunlight, echoing the unshakable joy that seemed to shine from him at all times.
The morning was the same as any other. Everyone would dine in silence and leave one by one to attend to their duties.
The Emperor was the first to interrupt the continuous clinking of silverware against glass.
"So, ahem" he cleared his throat awkwardly, catching everyone's attention. It seems he lost his ability to make small talk with his children. Or maybe he was just old now and his children had all entered their teens. Most, that is.
"Lee?" The young prince looked up from his plate, eyes expectant and mouth full.
The Emperor opened his mouth, but hesitated, pondering over his words. It seemed he was having second thoughts about saying what he was going to say.
Finally, he shook his head. "Never mind. This isn't the time. Meet me in my study when you're free."
"Am I in trouble again?" Lee raised a suspicious brow, which resulted in a laugh from his father.
"No, no, son. You're not."
Thalia, however, seemed skeptical. "What did he do this time?"
"Nothing, nothing, never mind." The Emperor wiped his lips roughly, and sat back in his chair, teacup in hand.
"Oh which reminds me dear," Celestia prompted abruptly, placing her hand on husband's. Even in her late years, she seemed as beautiful and refined as her name suggested.
The emperor raised a brow for her to continue, "Did you hear? Thea will be making it back this week."
All motion in the hall stopped. Especially Leander. He straightened, "Thea as in Duchess Thedosia?"
His parents seemed to be taken aback at his sudden interest in their conversation. "Yes, The House of Montclair." his mother replied warily.
Suddenly, an unfamiliar emotion filled Lee as he tried not to smile like a madman, "When? When are they coming back?"
"I said so, this week. Why are you suddenly interested in-"
"No-, no, never mind. Actually, I'm done with breakfast," he yanked the napkin off his lap and got up from his chair abruptly, knocking over an empty glass. "I'll be off now, I have some things to do." He almost tripped over his own feet, rushing out of the dining hall and leaving everyone both confused and amused at his sudden departure.
He ran for a minute straight, halting only when he reached the familiar doors of his room. He leaned against the oak, chest heaving as he breathed in ragged gasps, and fell to the floor, giggling like crazy.
Coincidentally, Sabrina was passing through the hall at that moment, and caught sight of Leander's disheveled appearance. She raised a brow at Leander, who was laughing to himself as if he were drunk. "What on earth has gotten into you, boy?"
And the only reply she got was, "Tia, you better be ready to crane your neck if you want to see me."