Chapter Text
Rouxls blinked his eyes open, the sun glaring at him as he rubbed them. He stretched his neck, spinning it in a circle as he hissed in pain. He squeezed his eyes shut, stretching out his arms and back, before opening them and forcing them to adjust to the light in the room. As the room came into view, he was met with the dark walls of the nurse’s room. He looked over to see Lancer, who seemed to be sound asleep on the plain, white bed.
Wait, had he just slept all night in the chair? Rouxls groaned, slipping deeper into the chair, legs splayed out before him. As he moved his legs, he felt a sharp pain shoot up them. Great, now his legs were numb. He forced himself up with a grunt, feeling the static in his legs. He began to pace around the room, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable pain, until it eventually faded away. His neck was already killing him, gripping onto the back of it with his hand.
Suddenly, his eyes drifted back to the window at the end of the room. He walked closer to it, leaning into it with his elbows on the windowsill. His elbows brushed against the vase that had been sitting there since yesterday, the arrangement of flowers adding color to the room. He looked over at it, watching as the faded yellow, purple, and black mixed to create quite an odd arrangement of flowers. As he inspected the vase, noticing how the buttercups in particular seemed to have aged overnight, the once bright yellow petals had become consumed by an old, dusty brown. The petals surrounded the vase, each thin sheet of wrinkled brown slowly falling onto the black, brick sill of the window. Yet, the black dahlias and foxglove seemed to be standing strong, their color vibrant, the foxglove in particular almost glowing.
Rouxls jumped when he heard a chirp coming from next to him. He looked over, just to see the white feathers of a dove. He let out a huff of relief, letting out a small chuckle as he looked over at the bird again.
“Helloeth there, little moppet,” Rouxls whispered, resting his head between his hands. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” The dove didn’t respond, its small eyes blinking before scratching at its wing with its beak. Rouxls let out a small huff of amusement as he watched the bird. How come it wasn’t afraid of him?
Yet, in the distance, he heard another pair of wings flapping. He raised his head, looking out the window into the distance. A black mass seemed to be making its way towards the window. The dove seemed to have noticed, as well, its fur puffing up in fear, before it flew off the windowsill, clearly unstable, judging by the squiggly way it flew forward and the inconsistency of its flapping wings. The black bird, seemingly a raven, seemed to have changed its route, now chasing after the dove.
“Farewell, birdling,” Rouxls whispered as he waved his hand slowly, “Keep your nose clean.” He was a little confused, but just shrugged it off as he turned back to face the rest of the room, leaning back onto the windowsill.
He jumped as someone knocked at the door, before looking over at it. He let out a heavy sigh before walking across the room and cracking the door open. His face immediately fell as he saw who it was. It was the goat boy once again.
“I-” He began before Rouxls put a finger in front of his face, shushing him. He looked back, scanning the room he was leaving behind, and stepped out into the hall, shutting the door gently.
“Thine Prince’s slumber hath not yet ended,” Rouxls whispered, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked down at the boy, “May thee consider his wellbeing?”
“Ah- yeah. Sorry,” The boy said, looking off to the side, resting his hand behind his neck, “Look, sorry for barging in and all that, but I need to talk to you about something very important.” His eyes were closed, and an awkward smile sprawled across his face.
Rouxls raised an eyebrow, hands crossed as he looked down at him. “Go on…” He said, spectacle.
“So, uhm..” The boy looked down, his eyes running around the floor as he seemed to try to form a proper sentence. “We kind of needed to put the King in jail…” Ralsei began, looking back up at Rouxls.
“And…?”
“And we need a new King…” Ralsei said, taking in a deep breath before his next words, shutting his eyes, “And Lancer is kind of the only one left of the royal bloodline.” He opened a single eye, glancing at Rouxls’ expression.
Rouxls stood where he was, eyes wide open as he took in the words. He looked ahead into the void, allowing himself time to absorb the words. Rouxls took in a deep breath, holding onto the bridge of his nose as he clamped his eyes shut.
“Thoust wants…” Rouxls began, “To put a ten-year-old on the throne?” his words came out shaky as he tried his best to keep his composure. He straightened his back, clamping his hands together as he brought them closer to his face, taking a deep breath in through his nose and out of his mouth. Maybe he misheard. Maybe the answer would change if he asked again.
“Yes…?” The boy said, the awkward smile returning as he raised his shoulders, hands splayed out on either side of his head.
Rouxls could feel his eye twitch; despite his best efforts, he couldn’t help but yell out, “ART THOU STARK, RAVING MAD?!”
He brought his hands together and rested his forehead on them, breathing out and letting the hands fall.
“He’s TEN!” He said once again, his hands gesturing towards the door where Lancer would be sleeping, that is, if the scream hadn’t woken him up. He tsked, placing the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He huffed out a breath before grabbing the boy's ear, dragging him further into the hallway so they are not right in front of the door.
“You cannot put a child on the throne,” He hissed as he stared down, pointing a finger at the boy, “It would be too much for him to bear! Oh, he will crack under the pressure.” He looked up, arm covering his eyes dramatically as he thought of all the consequences. A child shouldn’t have such a role, it’s simply unrealistic! Let alone everything Lancer has been through with his dad. Even then, he knew very little about their relationship, and there was probably a lot more he wasn’t aware of.
“Well, it’s not like we have much of a choice. None of the royal bloodline is left,” the boy said, hands clasped together, eyes barely visible under the wide rim of the hat.
Rouxls looked straight down at Ralsei, kneeling to his level to make eye contact, hands on either of his shoulders. ”He cannot be your sacrificial lamb,” Rouxls whispered, eyes unblinking.
Ralsei stared back, eyes running around in panic as he took in the words. “Look, I’m sorry, but this isn’t even my choice to make,” Ralsei said, pushing himself away from the grip. “The rules are still the rules, no matter how hard you want to change them. As darkners, all we have to do is follow. Just let him do his job, Mr. Rouxls.”
Rouxls stared at the kid, still kneeling, before getting up once again. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked off to the side, hands clenched into fists.
“T’is an apocryphal I refuse to believe,” He whispered, before walking away, steps even, heels clicking against the hard stone floor. Ralsei seemed to have wanted to go after him, his arm stretched out, before reluctantly drawing back and looking at the floor. He walked in the opposite direction, most likely trying to find his way out of the castle.
As Rouxls walked down the hall, he was trying to find a way to somehow spare Lancer from having to become the King, yet it really did seem like the only choice. Atleast he might be able to help the boy with some stuff. Overall, the change is aggressive. He will need help adjusting to the sudden role.
He creaked the door open into the room, peaking in while trying to stay quiet in case the prince was still asleep.
“Lesser dad?” He heard a voice call from inside the room. The boy was sitting up, his arm bandaged with a strap on his shoulder, lifting it up. Rouxls fully opened the door and stepped in, pulling on a big smile as he clasped his hands together.
“Ah, Lancer!” He exclaimed, “Thou art awake already!” He tried his best not to sound nervous. How was he supposed to tell this kid he was about to become king?
“Why were you yelling in the hallway?” Lancer asked, and he already sounded suspicious. Right, Rouxls forgot he had done that. How was he meant to get out of this one? He took a few seconds for himself, the room filling with silence as he tried to come up with an excuse.
“I forgot,” Rouxls blurted, “Although I knowth thou hast not risen to the status of sovereign!” He allowed himself to give Lancer a large, toothy smile. Too large, perhaps.
“Whatever that means,” Lancer said as he rubbed his eyes again, letting out a yawn.
In that moment, the door opened, and a nurse stormed in, tray in hand. They looked up, almost startled as their eyes ran around the room.
“Ah, I see that the Prince-” They began to say, before covering their mouth with their hand, cutting themself off, “I apologize, I meant the King. I see that the King has woken up.” They let out a nervous giggle, and a bead of sweat traveled down their forehead as they looked away.
“King?” Lancer repeated, eyes traveling back to Rouxls, “Why did they call me ‘King’?” Rouxls quickly looked away, fidgeting with his hands as he thought up a response. Maybe it’s just better to rip off the band-aid.
“‘Tis true, thou art King now,” Rouxls muttered, lips stretched into a nervous smile and shoulders lifted in uncertainty.
Lancer stared back at him, mouth hung open as he tried to form words. Yet, nothing seemed to come out.
“I’m the KING?!?” Lancer finally yelled out. He huffed out a few breaths as the room was consumed by silence. Nothing but the breeze from the window let out a light whistle, leaving the room cold. The nurse felt very much out of place, so they slowly set the tray onto a nearby table before slipping out the door.
“What happened to my Dad?” Lancer finally asked, eyebrows furrowed.