TW: @buse, violence, romance rated for ages 12+ if these topics make you feel uncomfortable, i would suggest you do not read this series. the topics mentioned above mainly occur later on in the series, so if you want to read only a little bit, go ahead chapter two Atticus's POV The Royal Family is messy. We may seem like the picture perfect family. But that’s all a show that ends the moment we walk through the doors of Talsworth Castle. We could never show what our family is really like. The people of Heathe would hate us for all eternity. Outside of my bedroom, my older sister, Ilana, is having another one of her rampages. Ilana is the eldest sister, next in line for the throne. I am fourth in line to the throne. It is a long way until I become king, if I become king at all. If the people really don’t like the king or queen, they can try and vote them off the throne, but it’s rare, unless there is evidence to why they should not be king or queen. Everyone wants Ilana to rule, though. To them, she’s the sweet sister, the gentle sister. Just one example of how we act differently in public and in the castle. I slip out the door to my bedroom silently, trying not to be noticed by Ilana. A terrified servant is gripping the handle of a cage containing two live swans with feathers of a pale blue hue. “How dumb are you?” Ilana shrieks at the servant, clearly frustrated. “I wanted white swans, pulling the carriage, not blue! You’ve been working for me for a month already, you should know that I always have white swans pulling my carriage!” She screams, practically pulling her own hair out. The servant is trembling, eyes big and apologetic. “I’m sorry, my princess,” He whispers, voice so quiet you could barely hear what he is saying. “Take them away, now!” Ilana is sulking, arms crossed. That’s Ilana Abernathy, the ‘kind, gentle, and caring’ member of the family. Me? I’m the ‘problem child, the terrible, terrible boy who gets overly angry when things don’t go his way’. I make my way to my dressing room. Each of my siblings- I have 6, by the way- have a private dressing room, with our own stylist. My stylist, Orlla, is a slightly annoying but good hearted lady who’s always trying to get me to wear the most stupid things. When I walk into the room, Orlla greets me with a half-hearted “Good morning, Lord Atticus,”
The room is quite large for a dressing room. It contains a wooden vanity carved with beautiful, intricate designs. To the side of the vanity is a big glass case displaying more shoes than an eighteen year old needs. Two sculpted wooden closets that match the vanity are bolted to the walls on either side of the room, overflowing with clothes. There is even a separate changing room connected to the dressing room that has a heavy, velvet curtain in place of a door. I examine what Orlla has picked out for me. A black waistcoat emblazoned with golden, swirling decorations and gold buttons on top of a white silk shirt with cuffed sleeves, all paired with black pants. She has also picked out a matching gold circlet and a gleaming ring with the Abernathy family symbol- a hawk in flight- engraved on it. I take the bundle of clothes to the changing room, pushing the heavy curtain out of the way as I enter. When I take off my shirt, I wince automatically looking in the mirror. Pale, arching lines are in several spots along my back. Old scars. I try not to focus on the scars as I slip on the white long sleeved shirt, and then the waistcoat on top of it. After putting the whole thing on, I sneak a glance in the mirror. For once, Orlla hasn’t tried to put me in something wild and extravagant. The black of the waistcoat matches my hair, and all of the gold in the outfit is the same shade of my eyes. For once, my outfit is actually complimenting my horns instead of making me look like an idiot. Before you say anything about my horns, let me explain. I wasn’t born with them. The morning after Isleen had cursed the village, when I woke up, my head felt oddly heavy. I shortly discovered that I had two, inky black horns protruding just above my temples from either side of my head, which then resulted in my brother, Aerrick, throwing a temper tantrum about how he wanted horns too, and how it wasn’t fair that Atticus got horns. It turns out, the horns were a curse from Isleen herself. Not just that, but she had cursed all of the royal children. She crushed our dreams and turned them into our nightmares. Ilana, who is said to be the most beautiful mortal ever, will never be able to fall in love or get married. My other sister, Melisande, who has always dreamed of becoming a warrior, will never win a battle in her life. My brother, Aerrick, who’s only desire is to be the ruler of Heathe, can never bear the crown. So, how do horns fit into all of that? I think it's because of how desperately I wanted to be normal as a kid. I wanted to blend into the crowd of other kids. I didn’t want people to view me as the Prince of Heathe, merely because I didn’t want to be. All I had wished was for people to look at me as if I were a run-of-the-mill boy, not an all-powerful Prince. So, knowing how badly I just wanted to be a usual kid, Isleen gave me an unusual feature: horns. It was as if she were saying, ‘You’re not normal. You will never be normal.’ It’s not truly a curse, and it’s not at all that bad, but when I finally understood it, it was like a gut punch. Bringing me out of my thoughts, I hear a voice shout from outside. “Prince Atticus, your carriage is awaiting your arrival!” It’s time for the announcement ceremony to begin.
