I guess I'm sticking to oneshots for a bit. This is something I've kind of had in headcanon for a while now. Castle Krakenburg is most likely haunted. I can't imagine anyone could deny that!
Castle Krakenburg was an old castle, but many whispered that the reasons for the drafts were not due just to settling walls and cracks. Servants and staff had experienced many things that seemed wrong. A few gossipy maids had even claimed to see apparitions.
Some rolled their eyes. Others soon became believers, even if they had not seen the apparitions themselves.
After all, with the recent bloody history of the castle, how could it not be haunted? Though the fighting among the multiple concubines and children of King Garon had ended years ago, near the time of the young Princess Elise's birth, the castle still had an air of eeriness and hostility.
There had even been an instance with a young maid assigned to tend to Princess Camilla. She had gone upstairs to place fresh linen on the princess's bed, but left the room screaming, swearing that something had flung the princess's brush at her. She had quit, and word was she had even fled the country itself.
But many believed her to be unstable. Sure there were drafts. Some had even reported the smells of perfume or other lingering scents. And there was the occasional feeling of a presence, of being observed but having no one else in the room, but no one else had any claims of a brush, or anything else, being flung in their direction.
Besides, surely not all of the spirits that may or may not haunt the castle were hostile.
Prince Xander had heard the rumors, but he did not buy into them. As long as the servants, and the retainers, did their jobs, he did not care what they talked about. Except the one instance when Niles, one of Prince Leo's retainers, had attempted to scare Elise with ghost stories. That he took care of himself.
As he walked the dimly lit hall towards his chambers, it had been on his mind. The servants had been talking all day. There were noises and voices coming from the throne room, which had been empty. The idea of a spirit did not bother him, not as much as other things he had to deal with every single day. He was, he supposed, curious. But as these spectral beings had not approached him, what could he do?
He pushed the door to his room open and sighed. It would be a long night. Stacks of parchment waited for him on his desk. He had wanted to be outside, training with his retainers. But the night was dedicated to other things.
A noise drew his attention from under his bed. It was far from a ghostly presence. It was merely one of the castle's cats, the grey one who liked to stay in his room.
"Hello," he called to the cat as he sat at his desk. "Up late as well?"
The cat's answer was to begin purring. It crawled out from under the bed, stretched, then crossed the room and jumped into the prince's lap. He chuckled and scratched the feline behind the ears. He waited for the cat to settle before he started to tackle the pile of work that waited for him.
He worked in silence, other than the cat's purring and occasional meow. The time ticked by as the candle on his desk burned lower and lower. A cool feeling crept into the room. The candle flickered but did not blow out. Xander himself let out a noise of impatience and reached up to cup the candle's flame from the chill. The cat in his lap bristled and hissed before running under the bed.
"What has you so frightened?" Xander asked it. He shook his head and returned to the parchment in front of him. He was nearly done, and even had a few hours left to sleep. But the instance reminded him of a similar one.
One evening, his retainer Laslow had come to him with a request. He had stood by Xander's desk and waited as the prince considered what he asked. Suddenly, as there had been just then, a gust blew at the candle and Laslow had held himself to hide his shudder.
"Milord... does that not bother you?"
Prince Xander had watched him hold himself and even look over his shoulder. He shook his head and told the younger man, "No, my room has always been drafty. I suppose I have gotten used to it."
It did not bother him at the time, but with all the talk of ghosts and spirits and things, what if it was? He did, after all, have his own hand in the castle's nasty recent past. Not that he wanted to. His hand hovered over a long list of duties on his desk as he thought. Slowly, he lowered it.
"That's enough for tonight," he told himself. "The rest can wait."
He would not admit it, not to anyone. Not the empty room, nor the sweet cat under the bed. But his eyes were aching. He was exhausted. He rose to his feet and stretched. He removed the circlet on his head and placed it on the desk. The candle he carried with him as he crossed the room to wash his face. He took off his clothes and folded them neatly, unlike certain siblings who just threw their clothes about their rooms. Then he dressed for bed.
The last thing he did before sliding under the plush purple sheets was blow out the candle.
The prince was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.
As the moon began to set, the cat grew brave enough to come out. It hopped onto the bed and curled up to sleep at the foot of the bed. The blankets, warm from being slept under, were pooling near the bottom. They felt good to the cat.
A sudden noise, however, spooked it. It hopped onto the floor, fur rising in an arch as the sound of a woman's sigh filled the room. She was not fully there, but it was by Xander's side she liked to stay. She reached down the bed and grabbed at the blankets Xander had kicked away in his fitful sleep. With a gentle motion, she pulled them back up; then, with a hand that he could not feel, she brushed his blonde curls out of his face.
"Sleep well, my little prince," the ghost of Queen Katerina murmured before she vanished.