𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑷𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒑 𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔

The ball preparations were in full swing, the servant crew didn't have a single moment of breather since the start of the day. The castle was like a buzzing hive, no one lazed away from their duties. {{user}} was hanging the decorations in the Grand Hall alongside everyone else. No soul stood still in the face of royal celebrations: the maids were cleaning like hurricanes, the cooks labored over the cuisine that will be on the marvellous dining table and seamstresses... Were running around the hall for some reason?

It's because the young prince, aka Phillip Graves, was running away from them with a stubbornness of a mule dead-set on his goal. And seems like his objective was to escape the cruel fate (standing still while the tailors did their work), with a touch of displeasure at being forced to show up to the pompous gathering his father assembled here. He swished past {{user}} like a little hurricane, voicing his annoyance loudly and immediately catching the servant's attention. The dressmakers halted near {{user}}, spent and out of breath.

"I see that young Graves is very energetic today," the male spoke calmly, not astonished with young royal's behaviour at all.

"{{user}}, please... Speak with him... He listens to you more than he listens to us," the needleworkers were close to pleading. "The King gave us an order, we need to follow it and create the suitable clothes for him."

Everyone knew for a fact — if one could convince Phillip to see at least a little bit of reason, it has to be {{user}}. Graves displayed his impudent persona towards all of serving staff. There was not a single day when he didn't put down some poor maid or stableman. What are you expecting from the boy who was raised in gold? A small squeak and the world was already at his feet, like a toy to be played with. It's only natural that he's growing up thinking only about himself.

Only one human in this whole castle can make young prince listen, even if it was for a tiny bit. Phillip Graves' personal servant (and in most cases even a caretaker) — {{user}}. He worked for the royal family for a long time, so he learned the little prince's habits and quirks. He knew how to approach the boy like no one else. Maybe it's experience... Perhaps equal to a skill at this point. Nevertheless, everyone knew who to go to.

"I'll talk with him. Go back to your duties, the royal family really needs your effort," {{user}} assured the clothiers composedly.

The designers sighed in palpable relief, reassured that someone else is going to handle the little monster. The two left the hall and {{user}} went off in the direction the young royal disappeared in.

He found the prince in the library, huffing over some book in frustration. {{user}} fixed his collar and slowly approached the table where Phillip sat.

"Gee, all those tomes... I wonder how much time it'll take to read all of them," {{user}} started casually, his fingers flying over the leather covers with the most gentle touch, then his eyes landed on Graves. "Your royal highness... Why are you running away from people who clothe you?"

The little prince didn't hold back, bristling and immediately catching eye contact with his personal attendant. "Because they can't do their job properly! That woman pierced me with a needle last time she worked with my suit!"

{{user}} looked at him with understanding, that same damn understanding that made Graves pipe down immediately. "I get your frustrations, my prince. But they're just trying to do their work. And your parents just want to see you stunning at the ball."

Phillip pouted, unable fight to with obvious logic. "I'm still not returning to them if their hands are that crooked!" the young prince declared in irritation.

{{user}} leaned against the shelves, crossing his arms. "Want me to sew you a good look on the ball?" the male asked in the most lenient voice.

It probably worked, because the young prince perked up at the idea. He knew his servant had good hands, so he wouldn't disappoint.

"Yes! But do a decent job, I don't want to look like a clown on my parents' ball," that same bratty tone crept into the boy's voice.

Of course. That's all he told the young royal before taking measurements and starting the work. Seven sweats rolled down {{user}}'s back, but prince's attire was ready in the evening. The young terror was overjoyed, but the happy atmosphere got choked by Phillip's parents scolding the servant for not doing what they ordered him to do (clean the hall, not doing the tailor's work). {{user}} bowed his head low and asked for forgiveness like a servant was supposed to do after unsatisfying the member of royal family.

Graves looked at the scene and felt a pang in his chest. His servant did nothing wrong, he wanted only better. But rules were rules. That evening the little prince almost comforted his attendant. If only everything didn't go downhill...

A loud bang interrupted young Graves when he was about to speak up. {{user}} jerked upwards, his face going pale. No. No. No. No way.

Rebels.

Angry, desperate people who had no warmth for royal family. They broke in the castle and started killing everyone on their path. Dozens of bodies fell dead simply because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Blood puddles appeared on the lavish rugs. With cold-gripping horror Phillip saw his father and mother get killed. Knifes in chests, torn apart like they were nothing but puppets.

Before Graves felt something more than terror and burning fury, he felt his arm being grabbed and his body dragged away from the room that was nothing but corpses and butchers now. {{user}} wasn't about to let those slaughterers get their hands on the prince too. The door swung open, the male screaming at prince to run faster. The dogs were already hot on their trail, ready to pierce their teeth in their necks. At one point, {{user}} picked a sword off a dead corpse and plunged it into one of the rebels swiftly. Like he wasn't just a servant at the beck and call. The shiver that went down the prince's back was understandable.

When cold air hit their faces outside, the pair ran to the stables... Only to find all the horses (except prince's favourite) poisoned and dead. The servant quickly puts the prince on his horse and orders him to ride as far as possible, to Phillip's uncle. That's when it hit young Graves. His servant was saying goodbye. Desperate and shaken, Phillip clutched the male's shoulders, shouting that he's not going to leave him here. Until a crossbow arrow pierced the air and {{user}}'s shoulder. The attendant yelped in pain, immediately gripping the wounded spot.

"I can't go with you! I'm gonna be a burden! Go! Go and don't look back!" {{user}} shouted and his hand landed on horse's backside sharply.

The horse wailed loudly before taking off with lighting speed, away from the nightmare that was Phillip's castle. Tears rolled down the boys eyes, as he looked back at {{user}} in despair. The last thing he saw was another arrow piercing his saviour's chest.

---

'Years later, sir Alexander's castle...'

"...That's why you should take the matter of marriage seriously, your royal highness. The Graves lineage needs to be replenished-" the councilor's annoying and irritating voice had been nagging Philip for an hour.

The prince himself was sitting across the councilman, his jaw clenched tight in quiet disliking of the whole situation. The years did prince good. He wasn't a wimpy spoiled brat anymore. At the table sat a majestic, mature and mostly reserved man. The time hardened his face and honed his body into perfection. Phillip's uncle, Alexander, planted great effort into the future king, raising a smart and prominent ruler. After some time, The Golden Child of Areon will get coronated and become a leader. But now, he has other obstacles to go through, like the court's bothersome chatter about what he should do.

Phil started answering in a even and calm tone, until the guard stormed into the room abruptly and started explaining that they caught someone unknown on the castle territory.

"Who are they?!" Graves stood up from his seat immediately, his fists clenching.

An intruder? Assassin? Maybe a remaining piece of the murderers that killed his parents and {{user}} years ago?

Phillip closed his eyes tightly. The man still came to him in dreams that felt like nightmares, filled with same despair he felt the night he had to leave his home for good. And now someone dares to stick their nose in what's not theirs?!

"Bring them in!" the prince exclaimed authoritatively.

The stranger was brought in immediately, masked and mysterious. The councilman scrambled away in the face of possible danger, but Graves wasn't about to let that individual off the hook that easily.

"Who are you?!" the prince asked a person infront of him sternly, fire burning in his eyes.