"Ow!" Prince Keefe Sencen drew his hand back, not missing the deep tear in the skin. Dark crimson ran down his finger in a thin rivulet and the young man exhaled forcefully. "I knew I should've put on those protective gloves." Glaring at the instrument that had inflicted the wound on him, he rummaged through his drawers, searching for a roll of bandage. "Bandages...bandages.... Griffin!"

The manservant appeared noiselessly at his shoulder, in the creepy way he always did. "You called, my prince?' Keefe barely suppressed a massive eye-roll at the title. "I've already told you to call me just Keefe. Please, I beg of you, save the titles for when Father's around."

"That's as may be, my prince, but my job requires me to address you as such. Did you ask for my services?"

"Yeah." Keefe brandished his bloody thumb as the fluid that bore an uncanny resemblance to dark red wine dripped from the wound, doing his best to ignore the repeated usage of the title. "You know where I can get any bandages for this? I was polishing that stupid, stupid ceremonial dagger thingy, and... well, this happened."

Griffin tutted quietly, his disappointment clearly shown on his face. "You should know better than to injure yourself like this, my prince. Especially with the wedding coming up, you will be expected to look your best. Which does not involve bandages in case you were wondering."

Keefe looked up from where he had been rummaging through the drawer, in a half hearted attempt to find a roll of gauze and give himself an excuse to send the manservant away. "Eh? What wedding?"

Griffin's face was as blank and unyielding as ever as he asked, "Do you not remember? The wedding of Prince Fitzroy of the Vacker family, to Princess Sophie of the Ruewen family."

✧✧✧

"Father!" Keefe jogged into the massive throne room, not caring at all about the group of elegantly-dressed men kneeling before the throne. He also didn't care that he was dressed in a ratty old tunic that smelled like it had been dragged through the gulon enclosure, right before cleaning time. "Why didn't you tell me that Foster and Fitz were getting married, huh?"

King Cassius Sencen coolly surveyed his son through narrowed eyes from the raised plinth his elaborate throne sat on. "What are you doing here, dressed like that?"

Ro, his personal guard, sauntered in lazily, patting her tiny pink pigtails. "You tell him, Hunkyhair. Fight for your girl."

Keefe sent a murderous glare at her, before turning back to his father. "Shut up about my clothes. They're better than that cardboard stuff you call robes. Anyway, why didn't you tell me Foster and Fitzy were getting married?"

Cassius sighed. "Gentlemen, if you would excuse my son and I for a few seconds...the guards will escort you back inside later."

Cassius waited until the men- and Ro, offering Keefe a small smile of sympathy- were led outside and then turned to the heir of the Sencen throne. "As you were saying?"

"Did you not hear me the first time-" here it was obvious that Keefe was trying his best not to raise his voice excessively and trying to refrain from calling Cassius some obscene phrase-"father?" he spat, as if trying to rid the word from his mouth. "Don't you think it would be appropriate to tell me that two of my closest friends are getting married, for goodness sake?" He sent a glare in his father's direction- and if looks could kill, Cassius would have had been dead since long ago.

Cassius waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, please. You act as if Princess Ruewen is actually a close acquaintance of yours. No one of that league would consider fraternizing with you- which is why I'm also planning for you to get wed to the Vacker girl."

Keefe felt his jaw drop. "Me? Marry Biana?"

King Cassius casually examined his fingernails as if searching for a wayward hangnail."Well yes, the last I checked, that was indeed her name. Is there an issue with that, son?" As he said the last word, the king's cold ice-blue orbs flickered down from his hand to meet his son's seething figure. "No? That's what I thought. Run along and get one of the servants to pack your bags, now. I want to make sure everything is absolutely perfect- I heard that some distinguished foreign royals are coming too, including the Lakes'. We leave at sunrise tomorrow for Everglen."

✧✧✧

"The one word that describes this situation," Ro said, cleaning out the space underneath her fingernails with a wickedly tiny dagger. "Yeet."

"Will you shut up?" Keefe didn't even look away from where he had been piling his expectedly fancy clothes, as his father had hired one of the servants to choose the majority of his clothing, higgledy-piggledy into a large travelling bag. "It's bad enough without your commentary." He held up a particularly ornate scarlet tunic with intricate navy trimming, debating over whether to take it or not. Bringing it would make his father way too happy, but.... it looked good on him. "I swear you're doing it on purpose."

Ro bared her teeth in an animalistic grin, showing perfect, gleaming teeth. "Ya think, Hunkyhair?"

"I don't think, I know." Keefe decided to take the tunic after all. His dad wasn't going to prevent him from looking the best he could. He ran a hand through his perfectly mussed blond locks and sighed exaggeratedly. "And it's none of your business anyway, so just stop."

Ro looked up and made a buzzer noise. "Wrong. It is completely my business. And you want to know why? Because I'm gonna be the one who deals with all the teenage-boy-angst. And trust me, I'm paying you back in advance for it." 

"Oh, please, you really think it's gonna come to that?" Keefe may have used a tad more force than necessary to shove the intricate garment into the bag. Ro snickered as he bent over to pick up the silky fabric.

"I know it's gonna come to that, to quote a certain princeling."She paused briefly, idly turning over the minuscule blade in her hand. "Take a boy in his late teens, add some daddy issues AND a rejection from his crush of -what, at least a few years now?- and what do you get? A bodyguard being used as a therapist." Ro shook her head in a way that looked wise, but Keefe knew better. "I'm really not getting paid enough for this, ya know."

"Well, I should be the one who gets paid for putting up with you."

"Hey!" Ro brandished a larger, more menacing-looking dagger inches from his nose. "That works both ways, since I'm not getting paid after all. Call me stupid for walking into this setup, but here we are."

"Feel free to blame dear old King Cassius for that," Keefe muttered darkly under his breath, struggling to close the bag. "And give me a hand here, will you?"

Thankfully, she said nothing as she lazily stretched out an arm and helped him hoist the bag back onto the bed.

It was only when he was debating whether to take one of his pet gulons along just to annoy dear Cassius, that Ro spoke up. And what she said was the last thing he'd have expected. "......Hey, you sure you're okay with this whole thing?"

Briefly, he looked up. "No, but since when does anyone care?"