The firm grip of the guards is the only thing to stop me from letting my thoughts wonder to the thought of meat, of honey, of something other than stale bread. Ropes bind my wrists together, it’s restricting, yes, but an obstacle easily surpassed. I walk willingly, there is no point in struggle; the guards won’t even look in my direction in fear that they’ll get ‘peasant sickness’- trust me, they truly believe in that stuff.

I pause a moment, wanting to catch my breath. The guards give me a sharp tug. I stay put.

“One moment.”

One of the guards lowers his head, then speaks menacingly, “I need you to listen to me very carefully, peasant. You don’t know me, but I know you.”

Here we go, another one of those threats that make absolute no sense and are really just a whole bunch of nonsense.

I roll my eyes, “yeh, I’m on every wanted poster in the city. Well done.”

But, I give in, and we continue.

Winding through the city streets of Talons, we finally reach the north. It is built on a slant, opulent buildings tower high and jut into the sky like some sort of mountain. I always thought it was rather obnoxious. Bunting is hung overhead, all vibrant colours and the streets are polished to perfection. When the rich folk spot me being handled by two disgusted guards, most gasp, turn away and cover their faces with their dainty hands which I very much doubt have ever seen work.

Anyway, as we continue, we finally reach the palace. Oh, god, the palace. It’s like a pile of bricks just screaming, ‘look at me! I’m better than you, mortals.’ I’m sure everyone else perceives it that way as well. The turrets loom above with billowing flags and small peep holes for archers. Down from the poor side of the city, it looks like it pierces the clouds, from here, it looks like it’s trying to squeeze past. Rather laughable.

Then, the colossal door opens and we trudge inside. The ceiling is extremely high, almost comically, with two chandeliers adorned with crystals hanging atop each gold-crested point. A velvet carpet runs down the middle of the room, up a couple stairs and to the throne. A silver throne, with a purple satin sheet and jewels encrusted on each foot of the chair. And, finally, a boy sits on top. Well, more like a young man. Twenty, perhaps.

The guards shove me forward and I unceremoniously flop onto the ground, then scramble to my knees and look up at the King. After the late king abdicated, his son had to take the throne. Many pity him, with all the stress and pressure and all that crap. No one considers the fact that he has food, a bed, servants… a bath! For goodness sake, he has a bath. Nonetheless, he is still struggling, evidently by the circles under his eyes and the disheveledness of his hair.

“State your crime.” His voice booms as he stares down at me.

I look up, “Nicked an apple.” It was flat, yes, but there’s nothing poetic you can say about it.

“Another thief. How… predictable.” The king sighs, bored, “Well, dungeons, then.”

I froze up, then jumped to my feet, taking a few steps forward, “if I may be so bold, my king,” I briefly bow my head, unsure of really what to do in front of royalty, “Our part of the town is starving, I had to steal.”

“Cliché. Heard it. None of my concern.”

Damn, this bastard was stubborn. Just like his father.

“If I may, sir, your majesty, it is your concern. You are the ruler.” I regretted it the moment I spoke. Too accusatory, too bossy.

The king straightened, a frown creasing his face, “You are either very foolish, thief, or very brave.”

“They fall into the same category.” I say, then swiftly add, “Sir.”

Then, the king laughs. He laughs, “oh, you’re good. I like you.”

Ah, there it is, the boy in him. He’s simply just a child putting on some cruel kind facade.

“What’s your name, theif?”

“Rook.” I state, unable to help the small smile tugging at my lips, “Am I… still going to the dungeon?”

“Oh, no.” The king leans forward, elbows on his knees, “I have something better in store for you.”

“What do you mean?”

A mysterious glint shines in the king’s eyes, “You’ll find out sooner or later.”

Dammit, I hate surprises.

“So, thief, promise me you won’t stab me in the back and I’ll help you.”

I smile, “Promise. You have my word.” For all that’s worth.

I think that this one is a bit messy. I kinda just let my mind work in just a constant stream and I think I went on for a bit too long, just yapping, really. It probably also doesn’t make any sense. But, I enjoyed writing it, so I hope you enjoy reading it!