He was five minutes late.
On a sunny day with blistering heat, a thin woman with fiery orange curls and captivating, violet eyes stood in the shadows of a small marketplace. When guards passed by her, she yanked her hood over her head and looked down, praying that neither of them would recognize her. Much to her relief, they stumbled over the bricks that stuck out of the sidewalk and laughed to themselves, completely oblivious of the prominent noblewoman before them.
The woman tapped her foot impatiently. She journeyed so far from her home just to meet this man, yet he didn't have the decency to arrive on time.
"Looking for me?" a familiar, yet captivating voice traveled to her ear.
The woman spun around instantly, slapping his face as her hand flew in the air. She gazed at the man, whose tan skin shone like a trophy in the sunlight. Even after two years of knowing him, she couldn't help but find herself drawn to his chiseled face, or his curly brown, hair which was just waiting to be ruffled. His green eyes lit like a puppy's upon seeing her.
It took all of her strength to not kiss him at the moment. She bit her lip and avoided looking at his loving smile. "Well! My 'dazzling prince', is it? You're late. And you still look so smug! What's the occasion?"
"The occasion is you, Tiana, my love," he insisted, mysteriously pulling a bouquet from behind his back. In the wrapping was a bouquet of golden roses, a sign of love from the desert he came from. "I know I am late, but I am fashionably late, you see?"
Tiana rolled her eyes, gesturing to his bright plum shirt and loose, golden pants. "Fashionable, you say, Malik? The purple is an eyesore," she grumbled, pinching his face, "If you weren't so handsome, you wouldn't be able to pull it off."
"Oh! So you think I'm handsome then?" Malik happily quipped, stroking his short beard, "So! The lovely Tiana has said the golden words: I am handsome."
"Ha! Don't flatter yourself," Tiana sighed, even as a smirk crept up on her face.
Malik gently guided her away from the prying eyes of the customers nearby, instead whisking her off to the calming forest where they first met.
Tiana still remembered the day. She was racing across the plains with her horse, relishing the wind and firing her arrows at the bark of trees without missing a mark. He was hobbling with streams of red all over his face, with only a worn set of armor and a sword to his name.
She was a hunter. He was being hunted.
Had her horse not balked, that would have been the end for him. And against her better judgment, she saved him, the prince of the enemy nation–only to have later fallen hopelessly into his embrace.
But she didn't regret it. Not one bit.
It was a shame that things would end where they began.
"Ahh, this old place again?" Malik laughed. Her smile faded.
"Darling…" Tiana started, "You know that Fodlan and Almyra are enemies."
He laughed, "But that adds to the thrill of it all, don't you think? I hope your father hasn't given you any trouble."
"I still haven't told him anything, but he's starting to ask more questions. I bet he thinks I'm running off to see a commoner." Tiana sighed, "He wants me to get married soon. The Riegan family is the only one in the Roundtable that isn't on its way to producing any heirs. I'm sure my father expects me to give him a grandchild any day now."
"He won't accept one from me?" Malik laughed, "We could have a child one with your exceptional beauty and wits."
"I should pray that he wouldn't have your brains." Tiana quipped, "Malik, you're the Almyran king now. My grandfather is the sovereign duke of the Leicester Alliance, making him one of the three big powers of Fodlan. We were bound to be enemies since we were born. He'd certainly never accept you or your sons, and any children we have next would have a chance with him."
"Mm, that is a tricky situation indeed…" Malik hummed.
"So, that is why I don't think we should see each other anymore." Tiana said, "Malik. If I don't find someone else and just get this over with, it'll become too obvious that there's another man in the picture."
"Get it over with?" Malik pressed, "Since when were you the kind of woman to get anything over with so reluctantly?"
"I need to marry," she announced, "And that is final!"
"Then marry me ." he snapped back.
Tiana opened her mouth but fell silent. "I… I want to. But my father would never allow for it."
"Who needs him? Who needs Fodlan? You never liked the stuffy nobility anyway." Malik pressed. He kneeled down on one knee and, much to her surprise, placed a golden ring with an emerald gem into her hands. "I brought this today, waiting for the right moment. So please… just say the word, and we can run away. Together."
"Then, she said…" the boy whispered at his younger sister's bedside.
The young girl's eyes sparkled with excitement as she tightly hugged her pillow. "She said…?"
"Well? What do you think, Nadi? We're here, aren't we?" he hummed, winking, "It sounds like Mom and Dad have been having a happily ever after to me."
His sister gasped and furiously tossed the pillow at his face. "No! You stopped at the good part. Khalid! "
"You're too old for bedtime stories anyway!" he insisted, flying off the bed, "You're 10 years old now! Besides, I'm tired."
The princess's eyes narrowed. She wasn't going to let him get away that easily.
Khalid Rahman was a scrawny 15-year-old, but he could run fast. He donned loose, cream pants and a shirt, with a yellow and green scarf draping down from his right shoulder. They were silky and loose– the perfect kind of outfit to use when he needed to dodge his darling sister's pillow assault.
Despite what Nadiyah would say, she was hardly grown up at 10 years old. She looked similar to her brother: she had the same brown skin and the same curly brown hair. Her indigo eyes matched her mother's, while her nightgown was a white as pure as her heart.
Simple as it was, Khalid had already thought through his plan of attack as soon as he picked up his pillow. As his sister leaped over her bed to catch him with the next swing, he ducked and sidestepped her, dashing out of the room. There was a small thud, but it wasn't long until the footsteps began once again.
The hall before the children was large and grand. Khalid danced across the extravagant marble flooring, his feet tapping the golden dragon patterns and twirling across the brown squares. Nadiyah, on the other hand, raced towards him mindlessly, ready to give him yet another smack.
Khalid hid behind one of the golden banisters. When Nadiyah approached, he slid around the pillar and scanned the area for his next hiding place. His breath grew shallow, and it was only a matter before a young girl's tug held him back.
"Caught you!" Nadiyah giggled.
Although Khalid was frankly worn out from the day, it was only fair that he finish the story for her. He smiled and wiped his mouth, his sleeve sinking slightly closer to his elbow. "Alrighty then. Let's continue with the ravaging story of how Mom fell in love with Dad… though, again, you already know how it all ends."
Much to his surprise, though, Nadiyah had gone from grinning ear to ear to cupping her hands over her mouth.
Khalid froze. "Nadi? What is it?"
He followed her eyes, observing his clothes until he remembered just what was under his sleeve: A patch of dried blood from a wound just below his wrist. Nadiyah tossed his arm aside, her lips quivering.
On one hand, he hated that she had to see his wound. On the other… it was a good thing she hadn't seen the rest.
"Oh… that!" he exclaimed, pretending to look at his injury in disbelief, "Whoa! How'd that get here?"
"Khalid…" she said, her voice shaking, "Someone hurt you again…"
"What? No, of course not." A white lie never hurt anyone. "I didn't even notice this was here. Right, Nadiyah? This is just a little scratch."
Tears welled up in his sister's eyes. "Nader!" she yelled, "Khalid needs help! Please!"
"Hey, he's my combat instructor, not a nurse!" Khalid protested, "He's not going to be able to help! Nadi! I don't want to cause any trouble."
He sprinted after her, calling for her return. Much to his chagrin, he noticed a young man leaning smugly against his bedroom door. His slanted, green eyes filled with joy as a cruel smile appeared on his smug face. His spiky brown hair curled around his golden crown. The bright yellow spots on his neon orange shirt stuck out like a sore thumb–a sign indeed of the man's poor fashion choices.
"Got beat up again, darling little brother?" he asked mockingly, "Looks like someone's not going to become King anytime soon."
Khalid skidded to a stop and shot him a glare. "You know what? I'd be okay with it if anyone took the throne but you, Shahid. Thankfully, no one has been suggesting you as of late."
Shahid's nose flared much to Khalid's amusement. It was so easy to work him up. "You…! W-well, at least I have a chance. I am the oldest child after all. I'm full blood, and that makes me more Almyran than you'll ever be."
To him, his bloodline was always a badge of honor. What a silly man. "Age doesn't mean anything, though, does it?" Khalid questioned, "Remember what Father said– it's all about strength and character. Unless you can't even remember that much in that little brain of yours?"
Suddenly, his brother yanked him up by the collar, gritting his teeth like a wolf ready to tear its victim apart. "You want to say that again, you little brat?" he hissed, his fist hovering over Khalid's face, "I guess the first guy didn't knock much sense into you… perhaps I should finish the job."
"That's enough!" a deep voice echoed in the hall. The brothers looked to their right and saw a burly man with a brown shirt and a sour yellow scarf draped over his right shoulder. One of the sleeves was nonexistent, showcasing the many scars of the middle-aged warrior. He frowned and stroked his messy, chocolate-brown beard. "What's going on?"
Shahid tossed Khalid aside. "Nothing of importance, Nader. I'm just reminding Khalid of his place in the world."
"Prince Shahid, you need rest. I'll take care of things from here." Nader said.
"Of course. I have more important things to concern myself with." He waved them off dismissively before disappearing behind his bedroom door.
One tug at his sleeves revealed everything on his arms: thin cuts, purple bruises, and bloody scrapes. The same could be said for what was on the prince's legs.
Nader sighed. "What happened this time?"
"Nothing." Khalid insisted, "I swear I didn't do anything wrong. He was just… he felt like I didn't deserve to be there. He said I had to prove my strength. So I did. Or… I tried."
"Why don't you show me if you're a real Almyran?!" the boy had said, "You're not one of those cowards from Fodlan, are you?"
"Mom said that I have to take care of myself, so that's what I'm doing," he stated simply, "To prove that I'm like them, I had to take a hit, right? And fight back… though I guess that part didn't happen today."
Nader kneeled before the young prince. His yellow eyes were sad, frown. "Remember what we always say? The best fighters are the ones who live to fight another day. Let's find you a healer."
Reluctant as he was, the prince dragged his feet and followed his combat instructor to the healing room on the other side of the palace.
The maids continued to whisper incessantly amongst themselves as they walked by. They sure liked to gossip amongst themselves as much as they always had. And although the whispers were often shrouded in mystery, he just happened to hear them once in a game of hide-and-seek with his brothers.
" What was the king thinking, marrying that woman? She's from Fodlan, and the way she acts is just so… demonic! And now, we have to deal with her children on top of it."
" Oh, her son is the worst. He's so weak, so manipulative, so rude. "
" They should all just… go back to where they came from already. "
He could only guess what they were saying now. But whether it was Shahid or the maids by his room, or even the classmates he saw at the academy, it was always the same: he never belonged. To them, he was the enemy. He was a boy from Fodlan, a nation he had never even visited once.
His mother's homeland was a mystery. There was nothing, not even a single letter that could tell him just what Fodlan was really like. All he could do on any given night was gaze longingly past the sands of Almyra at the stone wall that had set the two warring lands apart.
It was only recently that he finally made such a daring, extravagant vow that it was virtually impossible: He had to destroy the wall and bring peace to its place.
"Khalid." Nader said sternly, "You're going to worry your sister if you keep this up. You know she looks up to you."
"It's not my fault! They don't even need a reason to fight me now." Khalid stopped in the entrance chamber, clenching his fist, "They're all with Shahid, and you know how much he hates me."
"Shahid doesn't… hate you. If you're asking me, he's just never accepted your mom from day one. And your dad had moved on so quickly after the late queen's death…" Nader said, scratching his head. Suddenly, after glancing around, he over to him and whispered, "Although if you ask me, I doubt your father ever loved her in the first place."
"But he doesn't have to be a jerk about it. I already have a tough time thanks to him and his cronies." Khalid spat, "You know he tried to poison me last week, right? When it was Dad's birthday. He tried to get me sick so that Dad would think I don't respect him anymore."
Nader grumbled to himself and glanced away awkwardly. He was evidently hesitant to badmouth the prince. And even though Khalid understood this, he couldn't help but feel angry.
His eyes dimmed. "Joke's on him, though… I gave him some candies the day after. He had horrible stomach pains two days after."
Nader bit his lip. "T-two days?" he stuttered, clearly afraid to ask for more details.
"Of course," the prince said nonchalantly, "If it was an hour after, it would be obvious just who it was. Part of any good scheme is the ability to hide your culpability, right?"
"You know, kiddo, you can't get away with poisoning everyone you don't like."
Khalid shrugged. As much as it was clear to him that Nader cared about him, he didn't expect anyone to understand his point of view. In this world, he was on his own.
The doors burst open. In scurried a skinny, frantic royal messenger with a letter in hand.
"Lord Nader! Is the Queen present?" he stuttered, glancing around the room.
Nadiyah and Khalid exchanged curious glances. Nader looked around the empty hall. "What do you think?" he responded impatiently, "You know Her Highness doesn't keep herself well hidden in any room she's in."
"Right, right… uh…" the messenger mumbled, scratching his head hopelessly, "I-I have an urgent message. It's from her father."
Khalid's ears perked up. The letter in the messenger's grasp shone like gold.
Nader held out his hand. "Alright, thank you. We'll see what he wants with her."
"Actually, it's um… it's not for her." the messenger said, "It's for her son."
… And that is why, Prince Khalid, I am writing to you today. I am an old man nearing the end of his life, with no one to pass the reins of House Riegan on to. Your mother has relinquished her position, your uncle has passed, yet you're still here. And should you accept the role of Duke Riegan, you would become one of the most influential nobles in all of Fodlan.
I want my house to live anything. But more than anything, I want to know my grandson. I want to know you.
Please come to see me. Please come to Fodlan.
Take what's rightfully yours, and meet your grandfather at last.
Duke Oswald Riegan
"No. Absolutely not." Tiana said firmly. She stood and placed her hands on her hips, towering over her seated son and husband with the crumpled letter in her hand.
"Come on, gramps needs me!" Khalid chirped, "He said it in the letter himself: My uncle died, and now he has no one else to take on the noble House Riegan. He needs an heir, and he clearly thinks I'm a good fit! He's counting on me to keep the bloodline going." He looked at his father intently, but Malik's attention remained on the letter in his hands.
Tiana sighed. "Remember how he didn't acknowledge your birth? He's only asking for you because he needs a successor."
"And this is my time to shine! … Unless you're willing to give me the throne here–"
"Don't even think about it, Khalid Riad!" she sternly told him.
Upon seeing his son's pout, Malik placed a hand on his shoulder. "What your mother means to say is that you still have to grow stronger if you want to become king," he said, "So this is not a no, but it is a not now."
"So let me get strong in Fodlan!" he said, "You'll see me in a few years. I'll have found friends, I'll get a nice place… you'll see! It'll all work out. Don't you trust me?"
"Khalid, you're fifteen years old. It's dangerous." she insisted, "You know Fodlan and Almyra have been – why would you even think of approaching the border?
"Well, clearly you did it!" Khalid said.
The queen's face reddened. Checkmate for Khalid. "That's… well–!" she stuttered, struggling to gain her composure, "Look. Do as I say, not as I do. You wouldn't last a day out there."
"Dad, please help me out here." he groaned.
"You know, darling–" the king began, standing up.
She shot him a sharp glare. "Don't even think about it."
"You heard the boss." He immediately plopped back in his chair.
He was five minutes late.
All Khalid was supposed to do was kiss his sister goodbye as she slept, no bedtime stories included. All of his belongings rested at his side, and he was ready to go.
Goodbyes were supposed to be easier when he was the only one saying them. There were no protests, no tears… so why was it so hard anyway?
The most he could do for her was give her a kiss on the cheek before leaving. The most he could do for his parents was whisper how much he loved them. And the most he could do for his other brothers was stare…
They'd want him gone anyway. Especially Shahid.
With one whistle near the balcony of his bedroom, a white wyvern came flying to him. The dragon soared in the sky and panted enthusiastically in his presence.
" Ahem ."
Khalid froze. "N-Nader? Is that…"
The young prince spun around, his arms sticking out like tree branches on a summer day. In front of him, his father folded his arms. "You could be in a lot of trouble right now. I don't know if the Duke take care of you."
"Why didn't you stop me earlier?" Khalid asked, "How'd you know I was even doing all this?"
"You're my son! Give me some credit." The embrace he gave his son was a tight one; Khalid feared that he would have been crushed had he not squirmed out of it at the last second.
"Dad! I'm not a little kid anymore," he whined.
"I know," the king whispered through the tears in his eyes, "I do think you're less mature than you think. But I want you to see the world as I have. Just promise me you'll come back."
As he boarded his wyvern, Khalid knew that there would be no turning back. So he had to face the road ahead, his eyes wide and his heart full of dreams.