Days Gone By

[Brayden Smith]

For a lingering moment, Brayden's gaze settled on the tall, dark-haired man seated at the side table beside his brother. At the long high table at the front of the room it was himself, his father and his mother--the royal family of the House of Dreams--alongside other Kings, Queens, Crown Princes and Crown Princesses of the remainder five houses. They were celebrating the union between two houses and while Brayden also had the option of bringing a guest, he decided to come alone so as not to stir up unnecessary rumors.

His brother, however...

Brayden dropped his gaze for a moment as his brother looked up--and looked directly at him with those piercing, judgmental blue eyes. There was nothing but contempt in them and Brayden could feel his gaze sweeping across the conservative tan robes that seemed somehow out of place among the brightly colored celebratory garb of the other royals. In an attempt not  to stand out, Brayden ended up standing out anyway...

He fiddled with the subtle gold hem of his sleeve. It was no secret that the first Prince of their house was not the Crown Prince and it was no secret that the first Prince was one of mixed blood, unsuited to assume the position of High King. Out of an indiscretion with a concubine of another House, Brayden's brother was born and since childhood, he had been viewed as something of a stain upon their father's legacy. 

After Brayden was born, however, focus shifted away from scandal. Everyone lauded him as the next King and with his even, quiet, obedient temperament and soft-spoken ways, he was well-liked by everyone. Meanwhile, his brother began to act out in the worst ways imaginable and everyone turned a blind eye because he was no longer relevant or important.

But to Brayden, he was still his brother. Brayden still tried to mend their relationship, tried to get closer to him and to show him that not everyone disliked him or dismissed him out-of-hand. He didn't want his brother's heart to be filled with resentment and anger and hatred towards anyone, not only himself. Naively perhaps, he thought that if he only tried hard enough, he could sway his heart.

It was a long, uphill battle but Brayden was determined. Even though his brother clearly hated him the most--and not subtly, either--he loved him. They were brothers, joined by blood. Brayden refused to turn his back on him, and so he said nothing about his brother's companion, though he knew his identity and he knew that should the truth come out, their House would be plunged into chaos and scandal once more.

So far, however, there had been no trouble, for which Brayden was glad. He kept his head down after being glared at and missed the look that his brother's companion sent his way. Dessert was served on beautiful bone china platters and Brayden stared glumly down at the concoction of flower petals and delicate blancmange, knowing that the 'social' part of the evening had yet to come. And he dreaded that--he dreaded having to strike out on his own while his parents mingled with the Kings and Queens of the other Houses.

Brayden fared much better alone. He was more at home in the library studying and being tutored than outside romping about in sunshine and tall grass. He preferred the company of books over the awkward, stilted conversations that came from being shoved at other young men his age. And at social functions,he preferred to hide, which was why directly after dessert was taken away, he melted into the shadows and found the nearest exit out of the banquet hall.

Outside, he reveled in the refreshing, cool night air. For the first time that evening he felt comfortable in his own skin, and he took in a deep, long breath before strolling into the gardens to find a quiet place to sit and observe the stars. Stargazing was his favorite activity, above all else. To see them twinkling away up in the heavens was a unique joy. So he found a bench and seated himself, and smiled as he tilted his head back.

Soft footsteps behind him, however, made his head snap back down. Brayden turned his upper body in the direction of the sound, startled; his brother's companion had followed him outside. He tried to school his expression so as not to look like a surprised owl--but he was still surprised when the man seated himself on the bench beside him with a very casual greeting.

"H-hello," Brayden muttered, unsure in the moment as to what the proper etiquette was. "Good... good evening..."