Solitude:
Noun.
The state of being completely and utterly alone.
The Vestal Palace was… hectic.
Isaac's mother didn't usually bring him to work with her, but being only a palace maid, her pay wasn't always enough for her to hire a babysitter, and despite Isaac's insistence that at seven years old he could look after himself, she refused to leave him alone for hours at a time, never mind whole days when he didn't have school to attend.
His mother had hoped, quietly, that the Queen's death (gods bless her soul in eternal serenity) and subsequent improvement of her job position to the young Prince's personal care maid would increase her pay, but, well.
Isaac walks as close to his mother as he can, warily watching the early morning rush of the palace, terrified of losing his mother, or of being trampled by the activity as everyone worked to bring the day together.
Here he was.
Luckily, he finds that the closer they came to the sleeping quarters of the palace, the less the chaos, until there was little else but him, his mother, and the palace guards.
He watches as his mother smiles tightly at the guard stationed in front of the Prince's quarters, arms full from the breakfast tray she had picked up on her way. The guard nods to her, and opens the door, allowing the two to step inside.
Isaac loses his breath.
The room is.. Spectacular.
Larger than the entire flat he lived in, Isaac's mind could barely wrap itself around the room. But despite the size, it seems… Terribly empty, with hardly anything in the room aside from the nightstand and enormous bed.
And on the bed, a tiny child curled up on top the covers, so small in its largeness Isaac wouldn't have noticed he was there if he hadn't been looking for him.
Prince Hydron.
Isaac's mother walks swiftly over to the bed, Isaac nearly having to run to keep up with her, and places the food tray onto the nightstand, before gently touching her hand to the Prince's side, and he stills so quickly it's only then that Isaac realizes he was shaking at all.
The Prince's head raises, just slightly from the pillow he was laid on, and his face is streaked with tears, a light smattering of bruises across his cheeks.
Isaac hears his mother sigh in what almost sounds like anger as confusion clouds his thoughts.
How- how could the Prince be hurt like this? He wracked his memory for any recent public executions and found it lacking. Harming the only child on the Throne, only barely a year after the death of the Queen, should cause a very public and very painful death immediately. He'd learned what happened to traitors to the Throne in the first weeks of school, so why hadn't anything been done about this?
"Hydron," Isaac's mother says, gently, and he's startled to hear her refer to him by name . "My dear Prince, how does this happen to you so frequently?"
The boy curls in on himself tighter, and buries his face back into the pillow. Isaac's mother sighs again, sadder this time.
"My dear Prince, it's time to get up for the day." She moves her arms to lift him slightly from the bed, and he seems to give up, moving to sit instead of laying down, and waits for Isaac's mother to hand him the tray with his breakfast on it. He eats slowly, as if stalling for time, and never once looks at the other boy in his room.
Isaac wasn't sure what he expected of the child Prince, but whatever it was, it wasn't this.
When he finishes eating, Isaac's mother examines the Prince's bruises. They trail across his arms as well as his face, and he insists that's all there is to it. Isaac's mother doesn't seem to believe it, but let's it go, moving to get some light makeup to cover up where his outfit will leave the marks exposed.
Watching the skill of his mother's hand, and how easily the Prince let's her do this, Isaac wonders how often this happens.
His mother finishes her work, and the Prince gets off the bed, finally looking Isaac in the eyes as he walks towards the door.
For a split second, he looks sadder than any child he's ever met, before his face smooths out to an emptiness Isaac didn't think was possible on the face of someone only a few months his senior.
He watches him walk out the door, trailing slowly behind with his mother, and hears her whisper a few words barely audible.
"He's only just a child."
Isaac's heart aches.
He bites his lip, and looking up at his mother's face, sad in a way he had never seen, makes a hasty last minute decision.
He runs forward towards the Prince, stopping just a foot behind him, nearly at the door. The Prince turns towards him, confusion flickering across his face, and Isaac takes a deep breath, smiles, and lifts his hand in a small, nervous wave.
"Hi. My names Isaac. Do you need a friend?"