"Come in, Francis!" his grandfather snapped. He opened the door and stepped inside, turning to close the door behind him. "Where have you been?!" he demanded when the boy turned around. "You are nearly an hour late!"

"My timepiece is off…"

"Do not lie to me, child! I sent Mary to collect you when you were taking too long and you were not in your chambers! Where were you?!"

"I-I was in the gardens…it was nice out…"

His grandfather leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Francis, you know you are to meet with me at two once your lessons are complete. Did you even attend your lessons today?"

The boy looked down at his feet and shifted nervously.

"N-No…"

The old man stood up and started to pace back in forth, a sign that he was frustrated but trying to compose himself.

"You need to attend your lessons, Francis. Your Latin is atrocious, your opponents can easily dominate you in fencing, and if I were to ask for your help with military planning we would lose every knight we sent out."

Francis shrunk in on himself. He was talented with some of his subjects but his grandfather never mentioned those. Why did the man only see his faults?

"I-I am good with my flute…"

"A meaningless talent."

His grandfather continued to pace, staying completely silent, so Francis decided to ask him about what was on his mind.

"Why is there a boy in the dungeons?"

The man froze.

"You went in the dungeons?"

"Y-Yes," Francis whimpered, he was terrified of how still his grandfather had gone.

"Do not go in the dungeons!" the man screeched, roughly slapping him. "You are not allowed down there!" Francis screamed when his grandfather hit him and ran for the door. He tugged on it, trying to get away, but he was caught and pulled back. The man continued to yell and beat him. "Why do you never listen to the rules I give you?! Why do you never do what you are told?!"

A few knights heard him as well as the King's adviser and they all hurried to open the door. They tumbled into the room and were shocked to see the King, face red with anger, and seething. In his lap was the young Prince, trying to cover himself while his grandfather hit him.

"Sire!" the adviser yelled over the King. "Stop that this instant!" He rushed over to them and pulled Francis away from his crazed grandfather.

The man instantly jumped back up and Francis squealed in fear, shaking in the adviser's arms. Seeing his anguish, the knights that had entered the room formed a protective line in front of the two of them.

"Give him back! You have no right-!"

"No, Sire!" his adviser cut across him. "You have no right! Whatever the young Prince did it cannot have been bad enough for that reaction!" He stepped back. "I am taking Francis out of here. You need to calm down."

With that he turned around and left the room, heading for Francis' rooms. When he passed the Prince's nursemaid he beckoned for the woman to follow him. Francis clung to him and continued shaking and crying as they walked and even as the adviser attempted to put him on his bed.

"Let go," he commanded gently. "I need to have a word with your grandfather about what just happened. Mary is here to take care of you."

At his words Mary stepped forward and gently took the boy into her arms.

"Everything is going to be alright, little prince," she cooed to him, petting his hair and rubbing his back in an attempt to calm him down. "Everything is going to be fine."

She started to sing a quiet lullaby to him, laying back on his bed, still holding him close. Mary was a sweet woman of about thirty whose husband had died many years earlier at war and was never able to produce a child of her own. When Francis was born she had been brought into the castle to help the Prince and Princess take care of the new heir while they tended to their duties. The new parents spent as much time with their baby as possible and loved him very much, doting on him constantly.

His grandfather had been like that too. At first.

A year or so after Francis had been born, his parents had died and Mary had become his full-time nursemaid, taking care of him like her own child. Francis didn't remember his true mother since he had never really met her and considered Mary to be a surrogate mother. When his parents died is when his grandfather turned cold. He was so hurt and angry about their death that he took it out on Francis but never before had he done more than scold and yell until today. If Francis mentioned his mother he would set his grandfather off so all the information he had about her or his father had been relayed to him in secret through Mary or other servants around the castle.

After a while Francis fell asleep, his cheeks stained with the tears he'd shed and his eyes a dark red. Mary carefully unwound Francis' arms and legs from around her body and tucked him into the plush bed. Once she was sure he wasn't going to wake up she slipped into the hallway as the adviser appeared at the other end of it.

Noticing her, the adviser turned and hurried over to her side.

"Is he alright?" he asked.

"He is asleep," she replied in a whisper. "But he is covered in bruises and gashes. What happened to him?"

The adviser sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"The King snapped. He was beating him."

Mary's eyes widened.

"He was beating him? What on earth had the prince done? The King does not lose his temper like that over nothing! The child is seven years old and has never once had a finger laid upon him before today!"

"The child asked him about what is in the dungeons." He took a deep breath. "I have spoken to him. His audiences with the boy have been put on hold until further notice. He has caused great harm to this kingdom's heir and such behavior is not going to be tolerated."

The woman nodded.

"Good. I will stay with the prince. Have all his meals delivered to his chambers and a guard stationed outside his door. I know that this is our king's castle but I want him to feel safe. And can you have water sent up for a bath? I wish to clean his wounds when he wakes up."

"I will."

He bowed to her and scurried off to do as she had asked.

Mary slipped back in the room just in time to hear quiet whimpers coming from the child. She hurried over to him and held him again. The poor boy clung to her, obviously having a night terror that was most likely caused by recent events.