"Hey, HEY! Come on sleepy head, it's your birthday. Or did you forget?"

A large winged woman stood over a small bed, her hands poised on her hips. A pair of claws reached out of the mass of pillows and blankets, stretching for the ceiling. The claws, and the arms attached, had golden scales covering any indication of flesh. A young man pulled himself up and grinned.

"I didn't forget Ysbella! I'm forty-five today!"

"And yet you still act as if you are in your twenties . . ." The seraphim smiled impishly as the young man threw a pillow her way. "Your father made time to have breakfast with you. You shouldn't keep him waiting."

"Argus is waiting? He's always busy with people! I'll be down in a minute!" The young man tossed his blankets off and pulled the bed’s curtains to the side before hopping to the floor. He grinned at the seraphim and spread a single set of wings, stretching his entire body. He turned and bowed to the angel. "Thank you Lady Ysbella, I am indebted to your foresight and good nature."

Ysbella chuckled and inclined her head. "Maybe you are growing up Adireal. Be sure you wear something nice today."

"Nice like good clothes or nice like court clothes?" The young elve wrinkled his scaled nose in disgust. "I could stand good clothes for a while, but I wanted to do something fun today!"

"Court clothes. Your grandfather has divined that today is an opportune time to crown your brother as the heir to the throne." Ysbella moved towards Adireal's changing room, opening the last of three armoires, and began to search through his fine clothing.

“No.”

Ysbella looked over her shoulder at him, pausing her search for a moment. “I’m sorry? What exactly are you disagreeing with?”

Adireal walked over to the window and looked out. “It is nice out today. There is barely a breeze, the sun is out. I want a flying lesson today, and maybe spend some time in the woods.” He turned towards her, fists clenched and shook his head. “I wanna do something FUN today! Grandpa Ranvaas ALWAYS does something to ruin my days!”

The angel turned back towards the armoire, hiding her face from the boy. “Adireal, we cannot change the will of the Gods. Ranvaas, as the eldest and wisest elve, merely reports their desires to us. The nobles have been summoned and will arrive later today.”

The young elve walked back to his bed and began to remove his shirt. “It seems like too much of a coincidence that they always do what he wants.”

Ysbella paused again, though she did not turn to look at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Adireal kicked a post on his bed, shunting the entire bed slightly, and muttered, "Ranvaas is an ass."

"Adireal!"

Adireal stomped his foot. "Well he is. He talks crazy stuff all the time, he always has his smelly friend nearby and he always avoids me. Whenever he has to see me, he talks to me like I'm a slave."

Ysbella sighed. "Ranvaas is old Adireal. He sleeps for two weeks at a time and when he wakes he is very busy."

"And cranky."

Ysbella inclined her head and sighed. "Yes Adireal, and cranky."

Adireal walked over to the changing room and examined the clothes Ysbella had selected. "Uck. Too frilly. Will this be all day?"

Ysbella nodded. "That's why Argus is waiting. And Ranvaas does care for you Adireal; he just has a hard time showing it."

"He hasn't been to a single function involving me in over thirty years. He needs to sleep, he needs to work, or just talk to the Gods, or whatever. He always manages to be awake for Adonis though."

Ysbella sighed again and shrugged her shoulders. "Your brother will be King one day. Ranvaas is watching over him and making sure things go smoothly. This reign will be important, for both of you really. Ever since the menfolk declared war on your kingdom, times have been troubled."

The young elve's shoulders slumped as he considered her words. "Do we have to fight them? What did we do to the Tillites anyhow?"

"It appears so. They claim they want to destroy all of us. They hate magic and feel we are unnatural.” She sighed slightly. “Let us speak of other things today though, for today is a day for happiness."

Adireal took a new set of clothes into the changing room. Clothing rustled for a moment and Adireal called out in a hushed tone. "Y-Ysbella?"

"Does it not fit?" Ysbella could hear fidgeting noises from the other side of the door.

"No, it's not that. Um. I had that dream again last night."

Ysbella stood silent and waited.

"It was the one with the boy and the baby. Even with all the other horrible things that happen in it, I always end up wondering if the baby died. I never get to see what happens."

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"It always surprises me what a tender heart you have Adireal. I'm sure that if your dream has a happy ending, the baby wound up doing fine."

Adireal emerged from the room, still tugging things into place. "But it wasn't a happy dream. Why would it have a happy ending?"

Ysbella deftly tightened and tied up the Adireal’s doublet. Sewn with silver and gold thread, the doublet displayed a grove of birch trees on a fall day. The golden thread used for the leaves caught the light nicely, and the silver for the birch trees also shone brightly.

"Well, one can always hope." She offered a jacket to the boy. "Your father is waiting Adireal. You should hurry."

Adireal gave Ysbella a somber nod, still lost in thought, and walked towards the door. He turned and ran back to the Seraphim. She looked down in surprise as he threw his arms around her and squeezed tightly.

"Thanks Ysbella. I'm sure I will see you soon."

Ysbella smiled as Adireal let go of her and ran for the door. Ornate and made from stones mined deep under Grimhorn Keep, the door had been a gift from the Wind Chisel Dorves for Adireal’s twenty-fifth birthday. He had broken more than a half-dozen of the densest wood doors the elves could make. This door stood ten foot tall and was so stout most of the elveen servants required a second elve to help pull it open, yet Adireal pushed the door open and close with a single hand. The door thudded behind him and he turned to the hallway that would lead down to the main hall.

Adireal hurried along, though the court clothes made it hard to run. Allowances had been made for his wings, yet it was far too difficult to get the fabric to stretch enough for the purposes of flight. So Adireal jogged down the hallways, dodging servants as he went. When he took corners he let his claws idly drag across the stone, a bad habit he developed when he was younger. The marks left in the wall irritated several of the high ranking servants, and made Argus shake his head, but Adireal did it anyway. It infuriated Ranvaas, who believed that everything in the castle belonged to him. That was more then enough of a reason to continue.

Down the stairs Adireal went, passing from the Royal Quarters, through the living area and now heading down to the main hall. This was a back way, the servants way really, and Adireal used it frequently rather than take the long way about. It was another thing that pissed Ranvaas off. Made him shout about propriety and decency and how the end of times were coming.

The stairs exited to a hallway lying between the kitchen, the main hall and the dining area. Adireal's ears pricked as he heard something from the dining area. Many of the servants had found out the hard way that his hearing was far more acute than theirs. It was easy enough to make out the conversation; even the cooks in the kitchen were likely to hear the yelling from the dining area. Old, cranky-ass yelling.

"--it is not a toy Argus! It is not a god forsaken toy! It is a weapon and should be treated as such. This--this is why we are losing this war. You are far too busy eating to even entertain the thought of helping with something productive. What should Adonis think? This is rightfully his day after all!"

Adireal crept closer to the dining entry way. He was closer to the tables then he would have been coming through the main hall. He poked his head around the corner and watched his father and grandfather go at it.

His father was sitting in his dining spot at the head of the table, dressed in his semi-formal robes. Green and flowing, decorated with images of leaves and animals, it was the sort of clothing for religious days. Argus had yet to develop grey hairs, even though he was slightly over three-hundred years. He had managed to develop a bit of a pot-belly; the elves knew that their king was quite fond of his food and drink.

Ranvaas was quite stark in comparison. Thin, almost to the point of looking starved, he hardly took any time for anything other than his magic experiments and his duties to the gods. He always wore exceedingly formal and detailed clothing; it took the servants quite some time to prepare him when he awoke. Today he wore one of his favorite outfits: seventeen separate pieces, four layers, woven from the silk of a rare caterpillar who lived in terrain near the menfolk. The making of the suit had employed over a dozen workers for almost a month and one of the nobles had presented it to Ranvaas in a small ceremony.

Argus held a hand up, motioning for the elder elve’s silence. "Ranvaas, this is still Adireal's birthday. I will respect and honor both my sons today, but for right now I am going to enjoy a little bit of time with my youngest. I would imagine that Ysbella has already prepared him--”

Adireal peered on as the hall door swung open and a third figure shuffled into the room. It was hard to mistake this elve, for he was Ranvaas’s right hand. Shriveled by elveen standards, and a hunchback as well, he not only had a problem moving about but he also had a problem with bathing. Esventin was his name, and he clearly enjoyed his role as Ranvaas’s toady. Like Ranvaas, no one knew exactly how old he was. He slept little, which was beyond peculiar for his age, and was very prideful. Anything he heard would surely be reported to Ranvaas as quickly as possible.

His hands flailed as he hobbled into the room. “Master, master,” he puffed between breaths, Lord Ranvaas!” He passed the first ten feet of table, obviously in great distress. “Lord Ranvaas,” he shouted again as he approached the table. Once he finally reached the pair, he leaned against the table for support, practically choking from the exertion. “Master, mas-” he tugged on Ranvaas’s sleeve and peered across the table, noticing Argus for the first time. “Y-y-your L-Luh-Lordship,” he stuttered with a slight nod. He glanced only briefly at Argus before going back to the matter at hand. “Master! The-the lords! The ladies! They are here!”

Ranvaas’s fist slammed into the table as he sneered at Argus. “Good. Maybe that will set things into motion. You can have twenty minutes of playtime Argus. After that I am bringing in the family leaders. Be prepared, your Lordship.” With a sneer still plastered across his face, Ranvaas turned to leave, pausing to speak over his shoulder for just a moment. “Remember, Argus, which of the children is the important one.”

With that, Ranvaas strode away, confident and arrogant as always. Esventin gave a slight nod to his king before shuffling off behind his master. Ranvaas waited for Esventin to open the hall door and strode partially through before turning again. “Eighteen minutes Argus. If the Beast doesn’t show, I certainly hope you enjoy the time to reflect on what is right and proper.” In his rage, Ranvaas grasped the ring on the door in a firm two-handed grip and slammed the door shut by himself.

Adireal poked his head out from behind the corner. His father looked disappointed. “Father? I understand you wanted to see me?”

Argus perked up and peered about, first towards the main hall, then along the sides of the room taking extra time to eye around the tapestry. It would not have been the first time Adireal had hidden in plain sight. Finally, he glanced over to the servant’s hall. The elder elve tsk tsk tsk’d at his son and waved him over.

“I assume you heard most of that? No point in me pretending otherwise. Looks like we haven’t as much time as I had hoped.”

Adireal stared at the ground as he approached his father’s seat. He nodded with a soft and sad look upon his face, though he didn’t say a word. No matter what Ysbella had said it was clear: Ranvaas hated him with a passion. “I’m sorry father, I wish I had been up sooner. Maybe you should go get--”

“Adireal, look at me.” Adireal’s head pulled up from its slump and he met his father’s eyes. “Adireal, I’m still King here. Ranvaas can cajole and threaten all he wants, but we both know he would hate to risk losing face by disrupting a private royal meal. He will wait, at least for a little while. Still, we have little time to ourselves. Let us enjoy it.”

Adireal spirits lifted, and he smiled before racing over to his spot. Being the youngest son, he was allowed to sit in the fourth spot facing the eastern wall. The King sat at the head of the table, with the Queen or the Consort and then lady Ysbella and then the King’s children facing the eastern wall. Facing the western wall was the Crowned Prince, Ranvaas in this case, then typically his wife or consort, and then their children. Esventin took the place of any family Ranvaas would acknowledge, and between the two even mealtime was stressful.

Argus shook his head. “Forget that nonsense. I want to look at you today; it is your forty-fifth birthday and you are soon to be an adult. Come, let me see what an Elve you have grown to be.”

Adireal grabbed his chair with an even broader smile. The backs of the chairs stood six feet tall and each chair was one solid piece of wood. Moving them was a chore at the best of times for the servants, but Adireal managed the task quickly.

For almost thirty minutes the two talked, Argus asking about Adireal’s studies and Adireal asking about the kingdom. Argus never gave straight answers regarding the kingdom nor the war; at best his replies were along the lines of, “When you are more learned in the ways of the world we may discuss such things,” or, “Your lessons will answer that for you soon enough.”

Finally, Ysbella cracked the main hall door open and slipped her head in. “Argus,” she whispered, “They are waiting for you.”

The King rose and clasped his son’s shoulder. “It seems the times for happiness are over already. The matters of the realm call me away too soon, son.” Adireal nodded, tears forming in his eyes. “Now, none of that. We will do this again soon. It was good for my soul; it is not often that I am able to see my son in such a frank manner. Maybe we should have Adonis also attend next time,” Argus asked with a wink.

“Yes father, I think all of us would enjoy that.”

“Then it’s settled. I will make time for a private dinner at the end of this week. The next few days will be filled with feasting and duty-filled pleasantries, so there won’t be much time for anything. I shall see you tonight, Adireal.”

Adireal nodded to his father and nibbled on the last of his pastries.

Argus’s face clouded over with a stern look. “And Adireal?”

“Yes father?”

“Stay out of trouble. Today would not be the best day for an adventure.”

With that, Argus leaned down and embraced Adireal. “Be well,” he whispered.

Adireal grasped him tightly. “Thank you father. This was a wonderful gift. I will see you at the ceremonies.”

With a heavy sigh, Argus stood and walked toward the main hall. Ysbella opened the door completely and held it for Argus. The King passed without a glance back, shouting greetings to those in the next room. Ysbella smiled at Adireal and nodded slightly before closing the door.