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The palace walls gleamed with too much polish. Marble pillars, gilded cornices, polished floors reflecting the chandeliers, everything sparkled with the kind of shine that made Sharky itch. The problem wasn't beauty, the problem was that the place looked the same every single day. Too clean, too orderly, too suffocating.
"Back straighter, Your Highness" The voice of Master Aemon, the court etiquette tutor, cracked through Sharky's ears like a whip.
Sharky shifted in his chair at the long mahogany table, trying to force his spine into a perfect rod. His neck ached from being stretched like a bowstring but Aemon's hawk-like eyes left no room for rebellion, not here, not now.
"The way a prince sits" Aemoncontinued, pacing with his hands folded behind his back.
"Tells the court whether he is a king in waiting or a child playing dress-up--" Aemon said as he halted suddenly, narrowing his eyes.
"Yes, like that. Fix it" Aemon continued.
Sharky clenched his jaw, eyes sliding toward the window where sunlight spilled onto the floor in generous golden strips. He'd rather be out there, anywhere but in this suffocating room being measured like a prize horse.
"Your Highness?" Aemon snapped.
"I'm listening" Sharky said as he dragged his gaze back.
"Then show me. You are not listening with your eyes. Again, cross the left leg over the right. No, the other way. Hands folded on the lap. No, Your Highness, fingers together, not sprawled out like a tavern drunkard's. Good God, you're the heir to the throne, not a stable boy on his first feast!" Aemon said.
Sharky's fingers twitched, itching to drum against the table, to break the stillness, to throw the heavy golden fork across the room.
Instead, he forced his lips into something resembling patience.
"Yes, Master Aemon" Sharky said.
From across the table, his cousin Will stifled a laugh. Will, always perfect, always sharp in his velvet doublets, leaned with casual grace that Sharky couldn't match even if he tried.
"Perhaps" Will said.
"The prince simply needs more practice. A week of dawn-to-dusk etiquette might set him straight" Will added.
Sharky shot him a glare. Will smiled back, smug as a cat licking cream. Of course Will excelled at this nonsense. He liked being the golden heir's shadow, ready to step in if Sharky faltered. And the court liked him for it.
"Will makes a fine point" Aemon said approvingly.
"Diligence, discipline are the qualities His Highness must aspire to" Aemon added.
Sharky ground his teeth, the weight of the crown-that-wasn't-yet-a-crown pressing down on him like iron.
The day dragged on with the same pattern with endless corrections, lessons on posture, rehearsals of greetings he would someday deliver to ambassadors. Every bow, every word rehearsed until it had no meaning left.
By afternoon, Sharky found himself in the Hall of Mirrors, standing while a chamberlain adjusted the layers of his ceremonial cloak. The garment weighed nearly as much as the man himself, gold-thread embroidery stiff as armor.
"Your Highness must endure discomfort for dignity's sake" The chamberlain muttered as he tugged on the clasps.
"You're choking me" Sharky said as he rolled his shoulders, stifling a wince.
"Majesty requires sacrifice" The man intoned as though reciting scripture.
Sharky wanted to laugh. Sacrifice? For him, it was never blood or sweat, never battles. It was the slow suffocation of being watched, judged, trapped. A sacrifice of self, piece by piece, until only the crown remained.
Dinner was no relief. The royal family sat at a long table that stretched farther than Sharky could see, plates of delicacies gleaming in candlelight. His father, loomed at the head, stern and silent, his presence as heavy as a mountain.
"Prince Sharky" One of the lords at the table addressed him.
"What say you on the grain levy for the eastern villages?" One of the lords asked.
Sharky's fork paused halfway to his mouth. He hadn't read the papers, he hadn't cared. But every eye turned toward him, waiting. Will leaned back, sipping his wine, clearly savoring the spectacle.
Sharky cleared his throat.
"I... believe the levy should, uh... remain as it is. Stability is important, is it not?" Sharky managed to say.
A few lords nodded, others raised brows.
"Though one might argue that stability for the nobles does not always mean stability for the villagers. A small reduction in the levy could keep the easterners loyal" Will said as he leaned in smoothly.
The table hummed with murmurs of approval. Sharky burned, cheeks hot, but forced a stiff smile.
The king's gaze lingered on him like a blade pressed to his skin.
"Your cousin speaks with clarity. You should take note" His father told him.
"Yes, Father" Sharky murmured, though inside he seethed.
Later, when the torches dimmed and courtiers went off to their chambers, Sharky wandered the halls alone. He walked past portraits of ancestors draped in furs and jewels, their eyes painted to stare forever, cold and judgmental.
He paused by the great bronze doors leading to the outside courtyards. Guards stood on either side, armored and sharp-eyed.
The cool night air teased through a narrow crack in the doors. It smelled of earth, of rain-soaked cobblestones, of life. The city beyond the walls called to him like a drumbeat, laughter in taverns, dice clattering, street musicians plucking lively tunes.
Sharky pressed his palm against the bronze.
One night
One night away from all this, and maybe I'll remember I'm alive.
Behind him, the echo of bootsteps approached.
"Careful, cousin. Staring too long at the gates makes people wonder if the prince is planning to flee his own palace" Will said, his voice smooth and mocking.
Sharky didn't answer. He turned away, jaw set, but the thought burned hotter now, impossible to shake.
And in that silence, with the echo of laughter imagined from the city beyond, Sharky made his decision.
He would slip out.
Not right now no, too many eyes but soon.
Soon.
////_////_////_////
The palace always breathed differently at night.
By day it was an orchestra of sound, boots striking polished floors, courtiers whispering in alcoves, servants shuffling trays and linen. But after midnight? Silence. Only the occasional cough of a guard, the groan of old wood, or the sigh of torches as their flames flickered low.
Sharky sat on the edge of his enormous bed, staring at the moonlight spilling across the marble floor. His ceremonial robes hung heavy on a mannequin by the wall, staring back at him like a ghost of responsibility.
He tugged at the knot of the plain brown cloak draped across his shoulders, rough wool borrowed from the laundry piles, the kind worn by stable boys. The fabric scratched his skin. Good. It felt real.
He had thought about this for days, ever since Will's smirk at the bronze gates, ever since the king's quiet blade of a voice cut him down at supper. The city had called to him. Tonight, he was answering.
He crossed to his desk, slid open a drawer, and pulled out the small dagger hidden beneath stacks of parchment. Not for fighting, he wasn't stupid enough to think he'd win a brawl with trained guards but for reassurance. A prince's security blanket.
One breath. Two. He padded to the door, listening. Silence.
Sharky cracked it open and slipped into the corridor.
The palace halls stretched vast and endless in the moonlight, shadows clinging to the gilded frames and columns. He kept his head low, cloak hood pulled forward, footsteps silent as he'd practiced a hundred times in his head.
Down one corridor. Past the portrait of his father, the conqueror, sword raised, eyes judging. Sharky resisted the urge to bow mockingly to it. Not tonight.
He turned a corner and froze.
Two guards stood outside a chamber door, chatting in low voices, halberds resting casually at their sides. If they saw him now, even hooded, they'd ask questions.
Sharky pressed himself into an alcove, heart pounding against his ribs.
"...reckon we'll see the prince tomorrow?" One guard murmured.
"Ha. More lessons in how to sit properly? That boy needs a war, not a cushion" The other guard said.
Sharky clenched his fists, teeth grinding. He waited. The guards laughed quietly at their own joke, then fell silent again.
When their gazes drifted away, Sharky slipped out, steps quick and light, his pulse thrumming like a war drum. He didn't breathe again until the corridor opened into the servants' stairwell.
The stairwell was colder, stone steps worn down by countless feet. He moved swiftly downward, the cloak brushing the walls, until he reached the ground floor.
Here, the palace smelled different, less of incense and polished oak, more of smoke from kitchens and damp stone. He followed the path he'd mapped out in his mind, through the laundry halls, past the stables, out toward the garden wall.
Every door he opened creaked like thunder. Every shadow seemed to watch him.
At last, he reached the bronze doors at the rear gardens, the ones he had stared at days ago. Tonight they loomed closer, darker, guarded by two sentries shifting uneasily against the chill.
Sharky's mouth went dry.
You can't just walk out.
But the plan wasn't the front gate. His eyes flicked left. Beyond the torchlight, the garden wall stretched high and ivy-clad, the moon painting it silver.
The wall was climbable.
He crept along the hedges, crouched low, each step muffled by the damp grass. The guards were silhouettes behind him now, muttering softly, oblivious.
When he reached the ivy, he pressed his hands into the vines, testing their grip. Solid.
He climbed.
The rough stone scraped his palms, ivy tearing under his boots, but adrenaline surged through him. Higher and higher until his arms ached and his breath burned. The crown prince of the realm, scrambling up a garden wall like a petty thief.
At the top, he hauled himself onto the ledge. Below stretched the city, vast and alive, rooftops clustered, lanterns flickering, faint laughter drifting up through the night air.
His chest heaved. His lips curved into a grin he hadn't felt in years.
For the first time in his life, Sharky wasn't looking at the city from behind glass windows or gilded balconies. He was on the edge of it.
He swung his legs over and dropped down into the darkness.
The cobblestones were hard underfoot. The air smelled of smoke and bread and horse dung and humanity. A stray cat darted across the alley, hissing.
Sharky straightened, tugged the hood tighter around his face, and took a step forward.
For the first time in forever, he wasn't the prince. He was nobody.
And it felt glorious.
////_////_////_////
The city at night was louder than Sharky had ever imagined.
Taverns spilled light and laughter into the streets. Dice rattled in alley corners where men crouched in tense circles. Women leaned from balconies, shouting gossip across. A drunk stumbled into him at one point, slurring a curses at him before disappearing into the dark.
Sharky pulled his cloak tighter, but the grin wouldn't leave his face. It was chaos, messy, noisy, alive. Nothing like the rehearsed stillness of palace halls.
He followed the sound of music until he reached a small square where a crowd had gathered. Lanterns swung from ropes strung between buildings, casting golden halos over the cobblestones. At the center stood a man with a lute, strumming fast and loose, his voice booming above the noise.
"--For she was his secret treasure. She was his shame and his bliss" The man sang.
"And a chain and a keep are nothing compared to a woman's kiss" The man continued.
The crowd roared, coins clattering into the hat at his feet.
Sharky edged closer, caught by the energy of it. The bard wasn't polished like the palace musicians. His singing was half-storytelling, half-mockery, punctuated with winks and sly grins at the audience. He didn't so much perform for them as with them, pulling them into his rhythm.
And then, mid-song, the bard's eyes landed on Sharky.
Just for a beat. Sharp, quick.
The grin spread wider.
He strummed a final flourish, bowed theatrically to applause, then hopped down from his makeshift stage. With surprising ease, he cut through the crowd until he was suddenly at Sharky's side.
"Evening, stranger" The bard said, voice rich and teasing.
"Fine cloak you've got there. Bit rough for your shoulders though, isn't it?" The bard asked.
"It's just a cloak" Sharky said as he stiffened, lowering his hood.
"Mmm" The bard hummed as his gaze swept him once, from hood to boots. His smile sharpened.
"Just a cloak, with boots worth more than half this square" The bard said.
Sharky's stomach flipped. He stepped back instinctively, but the bard followed, lazy and confident.
"Don't worry" The bard went on, voice low now, just for Sharky.
"I won't tell them you're not who you're pretending to be. Wouldn't want to ruin your little adventure" The bard said.
Sharky swallowed.
"You're mistaken" Sharky said.
The bard chuckled, tilting his head.
"No, I'm not. Look at you-- back too straight, hands too clean, words too stiff. You've got the stink of the palace all over you. And those boots..." The bard paused as he whistled softly.
"A cobbler here would spend a year's wages to even touch leather like that" The bard added.
Heat rushed to Sharky's face. He tried to push past.
"I don't know what you're talking about" Sharky muttered.
But the bard slid smoothly in front of him, blocking his path. Not threatening, just amused.
"Relax, I'm not interested in dragging you back to whatever golden cage you flew out of. But..." The bard paused as he tapped his chin, pretending to think.
"...you look like someone who owes me a drink" The bard said.
"Why would I owe you anything?" Sharky asked as he narrowed his eyes.
"Because" The bard said, grinning.
"I'm the one who spotted you first. That makes me responsible for you. And if you don't pay me back with a drink, I might get loose-lipped about what I saw" The bard added.
It hit Sharky then, the boldness, the twinkle in his eye. This wasn't just some street performer. This was a man who enjoyed the game.
"What's your name?" Sharky asked, wary.
"Chunkz" The bard said with a flourish, sweeping a bow exaggerated enough to make passersby laugh.
"Bard, singer, teller of truths inconvenient. And tonight, your shadow" Chunkz said.
Sharky's jaw tightened.
"I don't need a shadow" Sharky said.
"Then maybe you need a friend. Or maybe you just need someone who won't call the guards when you slip and forget how common folk walk" Chunkz said.
"I can manage" Sharky said as he bristled.
"Oh, I'm sure you can" Chunkz said, eyes glittering with mischief.
"But it'll be a lot more fun if you don't" Chunkz added.
For the first time since leaving the palace, Sharky felt unease prickle down his spine. He wasn't sure if it was fear of being exposed or something else entirely.
Chunkz clapped him on the back like an old companion.
"Come on then, prince-or-not-prince. Let's see how deep into the night you can go before you break" Chunkz said.
And before Sharky could protest, Chunkz was already striding toward a tavern at the edge of the square, humming to himself, expecting Sharky to follow.
////_////_////_////
The tavern stank of smoke, sweat, and spilled ale. A lute twanged off-key in the corner while a barmaid balanced six mugs in one hand, weaving between staggering patrons. Dice rattled on a nearby table, punctuated by curses and cheers.
Sharky stopped dead at the threshold, hood pulled low. His nose wrinkled at the scent.
"This place is a pit" Sharky muttered.
Chunkz, already halfway inside, turned and beamed.
"Exactly. Isn't it beautiful?" Chunkz said.
"Beautiful?" Sharky echoed, horrified.
"Course it is" Chunkz said, sweeping his arms dramatically.
"Look at it! Everyone here's free to shout, drink, sing, gamble, fall on their face if they want. No one's polishing spoons and watching posture" Chunkz added.
Sharky's jaw clenched. He thought of Master Aemon correcting his fingers on a fork. He thought of Will's smug grin. He thought of his father's silence.
He stepped inside.
The crowd swallowed him whole. Chunkz slipped through with practiced ease, waving to strangers, exchanging jokes and slaps on the back. Sharky trailed, stiff as a soldier, eyes darting like prey.
"Relax" Chunkz said over his shoulder.
"You look like you're marching into a battlefield" Chunkz teased.
"It feels like one" Sharky muttered, dodging a sloshing mug.
"See? You do know how to joke" Chunkz teased.
"I wasn't joking" Sharky said as he shot him a look.
Chunkz laughed anyway.
After the tavern, Chunkz dragged Sharky back into the square, where he balanced on a barrel, lute in hand, pulling the crowd back for another performance.
"Ladies and gents!" Chunkz boomed, arm flung wide.
"I've brought with me tonight a very special guest!" Chunkz added.
Sharky froze.
"Don't--" Sharky tried to protest, in fear of being exposed.
But Chunkz was already pointing to him.
"Look at this fellow! What do you think, royal guard on his night off, or just someone hiding from their wife?" Chunkz continued.
The crowd laughed. Sharky's ears burned.
"I am not--" Sharky tried again.
"See?" Chunkz said as he grinned, hopping down to drape an arm over Sharky's shoulders.
"He speaks! Thought he was a statue for a moment. Give us a smile, mate" Chunkz added.
Sharky scowled.
"Perfect!" Chunkz said, turning back to the crowd.
"Smile like that keeps the rats away" Chunkz added.
The people roared with laughter. Coins clinked into the bard's hat. Sharky wanted to sink into the cobblestones.
And yet, underneath the humiliation, something tugged at him. The energy, the freedom, the way Chunkz commanded strangers like old friends. The way the crowd adored him.
Something Sharky had never felt in the palace.
Later, as the night wore on, Chunkz led him into darker alleys where small games were played. Cards and dice on makeshift tables. Smoke curling from pipes. Money changing hands with sly nods.
"You ever played?" Chunkz asked, tossing dice in his palm.
"No" Sharky said quickly.
"I don't gamble" Sharky added.
"That's because you've never lost anything of your own" Chunkz whispered as he leaned close.
Before Sharky could argue, Chunkz had shoved dice into his hand and pushed him toward a table.
"Five copper to start" One of the men said, squinting.
Sharky stiffened. He didn't have copper. He had a palace signet ring hidden beneath his cloak. He opened his mouth--
But Chunkz cut in, grinning.
"He'll pay with this" Chunkz said as he tossed a small wooden token onto the table. The men laughed, waving them to sit.
"What was that?" Sharky hissed once seated.
"Worthless chip I carry just for show" Chunkz said.
"They'll never know till we're gone" Chunkz added.
"You're cheating" Sharky protested, as he gave him a scolding look.
"Correction" Chunkz said, tossing the dice casually.
"We're cheating" Chunkz added.
Sharky's eyes widened as the dice rolled. The men shouted, money piled, and somehow, through a blur of fast hands and slick talk, Chunkz walked them out minutes later with Sharky's pockets jingling.
"That was theft" Sharky said as he stared at him in shock.
"That" Chunkz said proudly.
"Was survival" Chunkz added.
"You lied. You tricked them" Sharky argued.
"Course I did. They'd have done the same to us if we were slower. Welcome to the real world, Your Hi--" Chunkz cut himself off, grinning slyly at Sharky's scowl.
"Sorry. Stranger" Chunkz teased.
By the time the night thinned, Sharky was exhausted, his cloak dusty, boots scuffed, dignity battered. And yet, walking through the alleys beside Chunkz, he caught himself... smiling. Just faintly.
Chunkz noticed, of course.
"Careful. Smile too much and people might forget you're a prince" Chunkz said.
"I'm not---" Sharky started, then caught himself.
"Oh, this is going to be fun" Chunkz said as he laughed, loud and bright.
////_////_////_////
The palace loomed over him like a sleeping beast as he crept back through the gardens.
The wall climb was harder this time, his muscles ached from scrambling, his cloak snagged on the ivy, his boots slid against damp stone but he managed, heart pounding. The guards at the bronze gates hadn't stirred once; their helmets glinted dimly under torchlight, oblivious.
He dropped into the inner courtyard, knees jarring against the gravel, and crouched still, listening. Silence. Only the gentle trickle of the fountain, only the wind tugging at hedges.
Step by careful step, he slipped back through the servants' corridors. He knew them well now, the crooked lantern by the laundry room, the loose tile near the scullery that squeaked if you weren't careful, the narrow staircase that spat him out two hallways shy of his chambers.
By the time Sharky slid his own door shut behind him, his chest was heaving. He yanked down the hood, ran both hands through his hair, and laughed softly under his breath.
He was covered in dust. His boots were scuffed. His throat still burned faintly from the vile taste of whatever juice Chunkz gave him, promising it wasn't any form of alcohol and somehow he believed him. He stank of smoke and sweat.
And he couldn't stop smiling.
The image of Chunkz kept replaying in his head, the way he'd strummed his lute with that cocky grin, the way he'd teased Sharky mercilessly in front of strangers, the way he'd cheated at dice and walked away like it was nothing.
No one in Sharky's life had ever spoken to him like that, mocking, bold, alive. No one had ever dragged him into chaos and left him... not humiliated, not ruined... but thrumming.
He caught his reflection in the mirror across the room. A tired young man in a plain cloak, eyes too bright for someone who'd spent the night crawling through shadows.
He almost didn't recognize himself.
Slumping onto the bed, he pulled off the boots, wincing at his sore feet. He should sleep. Dawn was only a few hours away. There would be another day of posture drills, of Will's smirks, of Father's heavy silences.
But his mind was already elsewhere.
The tavern. The square. The raucous crowd. The look on Chunkz's face when Sharky scowled and the bard only laughed harder.
His lips twitched, helplessly, into a grin.
Tomorrow, he thought. No, tonight again. He'd do it again. Somehow, some way, he'd slip out.
The palace could chain him with duties and silence all day long, but at night? At night he would steal himself back.
For the first time in his life, Sharky fell asleep smiling.
////_////_////_////
The second escape was easier.
Sharky had rehearsed the path in his head a hundred times while pretending to study grain levies and military treaties. The moment the palace grew still, he was out of bed, cloak around his shoulders, slipping through corridors like a ghost. The ivy wall scratched his palms again, but this time he climbed faster, dropped down with less noise, and grinned when his boots hit the cobblestones beyond.
He was getting good at this.
The city was louder tonight, more drunks, more music, more fights spilling into the streets. Sharky kept his hood up and strode with purpose toward the square where Chunkz had first performed. The lanterns were still swinging, a lute twanged off-key nearby, but the familiar voice wasn't there.
Sharky scanned the crowd. Laughter, shouting, music and faces blurred together. But no wide grin, no clever bard weaving between people like a fish through water.
His stomach dipped.
Where would he go?
He tried the tavern from last night. Same smell, same sticky floors, different bard on the barrel. No Chunkz.
He slipped into a side street, thinking maybe he'd check the gambling alleys, but the deeper he wandered, the emptier it grew. And then.
"Well, look at this one" One of drunk men slurred.
A group of three men slouched against a wall, ale sloshing in their mugs, eyes bloodshot from drink. One staggered forward, squinting at Sharky.
"Pretty face" The man slurred.
"Too pretty to be walkin' alone this late" The man added.
Sharky froze.
"I'm just-- passing through" Sharky said.
The men snickered. Another leaned forward, grinning toothlessly.
"Don't be shy. Plenty o' folk workin' these streets, eh? You're dressed like you're tryin' not to be noticed, but that face..." The man said as he reached out as if to touch Sharky's cheek.
"...that face belongs to a--" The man added.
Sharky slapped the hand away, panic flaring.
"Don't touch me" Sharky said.
The men laughed, circling.
"He's got spirit! I like spirit" The man said.
Sharky's throat tightened. He wasn't armed beyond the dagger at his belt, and even if he drew it, what then? Three on one, in an alley he didn't know. His pulse hammered, boots shifting back against the wall.
"Easy coin for a night with you, eh?" One man jeered.
"I'm not--" Sharky said as his fists clenched.
"Oi!" The voice boomed behind them, smooth and sharp at once. The men turned. Sharky's eyes snapped up.
Chunkz.
He leaned casually at the mouth of the alley, lute slung across his back, grin lazy but eyes glittering. He strolled forward like he owned the place, gaze sweeping the men with utter disdain.
"What's this then?" Chunkz said, tone dripping with mockery.
"Three of you lot circling one man? Didn't know beggars got desperate enough to share" Chunkz added.
The men bristled.
"Mind your business, bard" The man said.
Chunkz's grin widened.
"See, that's the problem. This is my business. That's my boy you're pestering" Chunkz said as he clapped a hand on Sharky's shoulder, tugging him close.
"And trust me, you don't want to know what happens if I don't get paid tonight" Chunkz added.
The men blinked.
"Paid?" The man asked.
"Paid handsomely" Chunkz said, flashing a coin pouch from his belt with a little jingle.
"You think this face is for free? He doesn't walk these streets like some common dove. He's mine. And if you lot so much as breathe on him again, you'll be singing soprano for the rest of your miserable lives" Chunkz added.
The men hesitated. Chunkz's tone was playful, but his stance was broad, solid, absolutely unafraid, made the air shift.
One of them spat on the ground.
"Not worth it" They muttered as they shuffled off, muttering, throwing Sharky one last leer before disappearing back toward the taverns.
Sharky's chest heaved. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until they were gone.
"What'd I tell you? You'd break the second you wandered alone" Chunkz said as he turned to him with a smirk.
Sharky scowled.
"I wasn't breaking. I was--" Sharky said.
"About to cry?" Chunkz cuts him off cheerfully.
"I was handling it" Sharky said.
"Oh, sure" Chunkz said, leaning in.
"Standing in the corner, big eyes, shaking like a rabbit, brilliant handling, that" Chunkz said.
"Why weren't you where I first saw you? I was looking for you" Sharky asked as he shoved his hand off his shoulder.
Chunkz froze for half a beat, grin flickering into something slyer.
"You were looking for me?" Chunkz asked.
Sharky realized too late what he'd admitted. His ears went hot under the hood.
"I-- just didn't want you blabbing to someone. About me" Sharky reasoned.
"Uh huh" Chunkz drawled, clearly savoring it.
"Could've been anywhere, and yet you came around for me. Almost sweet, really" Chunkz said.
"Don't flatter yourself" Sharky said as he glared.
Chunkz only laughed, loud and rich, throwing an arm around him again as if they were old friends.
"Come on, prince-or-not-prince. Let's get you somewhere safer before someone else tries to buy your face" Chunkz said.
Sharky tried to shrug him off, but his chest betrayed him, light with the strangest mix of irritation and... relief.
////_////_////_////
The city smelled different when you weren't running from it.
Sharky noticed that now, walking shoulder to shoulder with Chunkz through a festival market that blazed with lantern light. The air was thick with spices and roasting meats, with sugared almonds snapping in kettles, with the sharp sting of wine splashing into clay cups. A fiddler was playing fast and furious on a wooden stage, dancers clapped in rhythm, skirts flying, boots stamping.
Sharky's hood was low, but for once he didn't feel hunted. He felt... anonymous. Alive.
"Don't gawp like you've never seen a lantern before" Chunkz said, popping a fig into his mouth.
"You're staring like a man who's just discovered women wear shoes" Chunkz added.
Sharky scowled, but his eyes were too wide, too dazzled for the expression to land.
"I've seen festivals. From the palace balcony" Sharky said.
"Balcony" Chunkz mimicked him, steering him toward a dice table with a hand at his back.
"That's like claiming you've swum the river cause you've looked at it from a bridge" Chunkz said.
They stopped at the table where two men rattled dice in a cup. Chunkz threw down a coin with an easy grin.
"We'll play" Chunkz said.
"I don't know how" Sharky muttered.
"Good" Chunkz said.
"Less thinking. More luck" Chunkz added.
He pressed the cup into Sharky's hand. The dice rattled loud as bones. The men across the table eyed him, amused at the cloaked stranger fumbling with a game every child on the street grew up with.
"Just throw" Chunkz whispered.
Sharky threw.
The dice clattered across the wood, two sixes.
The men groaned. Chunkz howled with laughter, scooping up the winnings.
"Beginner's luck! Ohhh, they'll hate you for that" Chunkz said.
Sharky blinked at the pile of coins now sitting in front of him. His lips parted then, against his will, curved into a grin.
"Again" Sharky said.
Hours melted. They drifted from dice games to the dancing circle, where Sharky was shoved into the middle by laughing strangers. He stumbled through the steps, stiff at first, but when Chunkz clapped along from the sidelines, Sharky surprised himself by laughing. Really laughing, head thrown back, unselfconscious.
Later, they leaned against a food stall, skewers of grilled lamb in hand. Grease ran down Sharky's fingers. He licked it off, then froze, horrified at the barbaric act.
Chunkz nearly choked on his food laughing.
"Careful, prince-or-not-prince. Eat like that and you'll have the palace knights down here writing charges" Chunkz teased.
"Shut up" Sharky said as he elbowed him in the ribs, smirking despite himself.
Chunkz quieted, just for a moment, studying him with a strange softness.
The boy's eyes were bright from firelight, lips shiny with oil, laughter still lingering on his face. He didn't look like a prince at all, he looked like someone free.
And that was when it hit Chunkz like a stone to the chest that he liked this. Not the gold-threaded boots, not the danger of secrets, he liked him. The stubborn, awkward, beautiful idiot who blushed at tavern jokes and danced like he was breaking out of chains.
He swallowed hard and looked away, covering it with another grin.
"Don't get used to winning at dice. I'll fleece you myself next time" Chunkz said.
"We'll see" Sharky said as he smirked, flicking a coin at him.
They wandered deeper into the festival until the sky began to pale, until exhaustion finally tugged at Sharky's limbs. But as he followed Chunkz through the sleeping streets, head buzzing, stomach aching from laughter, he realized he wasn't dreading the palace morning.
Because tomorrow night, he'd be here again.
////_////_////_////
The night was winding down. Festival fires burned lower, smoke curling into the cooling sky. Sharky's cloak clung to him, heavy with the smell of wine and lamb grease, his hair mussed from dancing. He and Chunkz walked side by side down a quieter street, laughter still ghosting their mouths.
And then.
"Hold there!" The bark of command cracked through the air.
Sharky froze.
Two figures stepped from the shadows, palace guards, armored in black and bronze, crests glinting faintly in torchlight. One raised his lantern, sweeping it over the street.
Sharky's stomach plummeted.
"Don't look like you've been caught stealin' your mum's pie. Relax" Chunkz muttered, low and sharp.
But Sharky's spine had already gone stiff, his noble posture betraying him.
"You two" A guard said, voice rough.
"Out late. Show your faces" The guard added.
The lantern swung toward them. Sharky's hood was still low, but he knew, he knew those men had seen him at court, standing behind his father's throne, parading in gilded halls. If they looked closely enough, even one glance...
"Now" The guard ordered, stepping closer.
Sharky's breath quickened. His mind raced. He could run but they'd chase. He could speak but his voice would give him away. He could--
And then Chunkz moved.
"Ah, hells" The bard groaned loudly, stumbling a step forward. He threw an arm around Sharky's neck, pulling him in close.
"Sorry, guards--" Chunkz said, his grin was sloppy, lopsided, pure drunken fool.
"Didn't mean no trouble. Just... bit busy, y'know?" Chunkz added.
Before Sharky could react, Chunkz tilted his head and kissed him.
Heat crashed into Sharky's face. He stiffened, lips parted in shock, but Chunkz only pressed closer, loud enough for the guards to hear every smacking noise. Then he pulled back, still holding Sharky against him, and drawled lazily:
"You think I can do this to a prince?" Chunkz said as he barked a laugh, waving a dismissive hand.
"Please. Lad's just pretty, that's all. You want his name, you'll have to pay me first" Chunkz added.
The guards paused. The lantern light wavered over them.
Sharky's entire body burned. His heart thundered against Chunkz's arm. He could barely process the words, the kiss, the audacity--
The guards exchanged a look. One spat on the ground.
"Pathetic" The guard said as he shoved the lantern down.
"Come on. Just two drunk fools" The guard said.
Their boots clattered off into the distance.
The silence they left behind roared in Sharky's ears.
Chunkz loosened his arm, smirk curling slow and triumphant.
"And that, princeling, is how you survive the streets" Chunkz said.
"Are you insane?!" Sharky yelled as he shoved him back so hard that Chunkz nearly tripped into the gutter.
Chunkz cackled.
"Worked, didn't it?" Chunkz said.
"You kissed me!" Sharky hissed, voice cracking with outrage.
"Ohhh" Chunkz said, eyes gleaming.
"So that's the part you're upset about? Not the being arrested bit? Interesting" Chunkz added.
"Don't twist my words" Sharky said as his ears went hot.
"Didn't twist a thing" Chunkz replied, grin widening.
"If anything, you leaned in a little" Chunkz said.
"I did not!" Sharky said.
"Sure you didn't" Chunkz teased.
Sharky's fists clenched. He wanted to shout, to throttle him, to--
But beneath the fury was something worse: the echo of heat where Chunkz's lips had been, the crackle in his chest that refused to go out.
"Never do that again" Sharky muttered as he turned sharply away.
"Course not" Chunkz said, falling into step beside him with a smug bounce in his walk.
"Unless you beg me to" Chunkz added.
Sharky's face flamed hotter. He kept walking.
Chunkz's laugh followed him all the way back into the night.
////_////_////_////
The palace gates yawned wide as Sharky slipped through the servant's arch at dawn.
The marble halls were waking, maids sweeping, kitchen boys lugging milk jugs, guards shifting to their morning posts. Sharky pulled his cloak tighter, kept his head down, heart thudding with each step. No one looked too closely. No one knew.
By the time he reached his chambers, his body was leaden with exhaustion. He tore off the cloak, flung it across a chair, and paced.
He should've been relieved. The guards hadn't recognized him. No alarm had been raised. The night was another successful escape.
But his mind was snagged like cloth on a thorn.
That kiss.
It hadn't meant anything, he told himself that again and again. It was a trick. A ruse. Chunkz had used him, humiliated him, toyed with him like some pawn in one of his street games.
And yet. Sharky pressed both hands to his face, groaning. His skin still burned where Chunkz's mouth had touched. His chest still jolted with that same dangerous, dizzying thrill.
It had been reckless. Infuriating. Unthinkable.
And for one impossible, shattering second, he hadn't wanted to pull away.
Sharky sank onto the edge of the bed, dragging his fingers through his face. He hated this. He hated himself for replaying it, for remembering the feeling of Chunkz's lips, for wondering if Chunkz had planned it or if, just maybe it had been more than a trick.
He flung himself back onto the mattress and stared at the carved ceiling. Sleep refused him.
Across the city, Chunkz sat cross-legged on his thin mattress in a cramped garret above a cobbler's shop. His lute leaned against the wall, strings humming faintly from the wind slipping through a cracked window.
He should've been asleep by now. Instead, he was grinning into the dark like an idiot.
That bloody kiss.
He hadn't thought about it, hadn't had time. The guards were too close, Sharky was frozen like a rabbit, and Chunkz had done the first thing that came to him. It was a bluff, a mask, just another trick from his endless bag.
And yet...
His grin faded into something softer, something he couldn't laugh off.
The look on Sharky's face. Shock, sure. Fury, definitely. But under it was something raw. Something that cracked through that stiff, polished shell he always wore.
Chunkz leaned back against the wall, hands behind his head. He thought of Sharky in the taverns, awkward at dice, stiff at dancing, but laughing like he'd been starved of it all his life. He thought of the way the boy looked at freedom like it was treasure, like each stolen night was worth more than rubies.
The truth landed heavy, Sharky wasn't just a prince playing dress-up. He was a boy drowning in a palace of gold. Lonely. Hungry for something real.
Chunkz sighed. He hadn't meant to see it. He hadn't meant to care.
But damn it, he did.
He tilted his head toward the ceiling beams, smirking again, though it was weaker now.
"You're trouble, princeling" Chunkz muttered to no one.
Trouble he wasn't sure he wanted to stay away from.
////_////_////_////
The moon was shining, painting the alleys in silver. Sharky and Chunkz sat on the steps of a shuttered bakery, a half-empty bottle of another juice between them. The city was quiet now, the festival long gone, the air cool and still.
Sharky tipped the bottle, swallowed, and grimaced.
"How do you drink this swill?" Sharky asked.
Chunkz laughed, taking it back.
"Careful, princeling, that's the good stuff" Chunkz said as he drank deep, then smacked his lips.
"Tastes like victory to me" Chunkz added.
Sharky shook his head, fighting a smile. He leaned back, eyes drifting up to the stars.
"You don't know how lucky you are" Sharky said.
"Lucky?" Chunkz asked as he raised a brow.
"You can go wherever you want" Sharky said, his voice low, honest in a way it rarely was.
"Speak however you like. No tutors, no endless bowing, no guards breathing down your neck" Sharky continued as his jaw clenched.
"You're... free" Sharky added.
For a moment, Chunkz said nothing. He just watched the boy silhouetted against the sky, his fine posture sagging at last, the edge of longing in his voice.
Then Chunkz chuckled softly.
"Free, huh? Let me tell you about freedom" Chunkz said as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"Freedom is waking up hungry cause the tavern crowd was stingy. Freedom is getting chased out of three inns because you can't pay for a bed. Freedom is singing until your throat bleeds, and still having to smile so they toss you a copper" Chunkz added.
Sharky turned his head, frowning.
Chunkz's grin was there, but softer, less mocking.
"Don't get me wrong. I wouldn't trade it for your palace cage. But it ain't all song and wine either. Sometimes freedom means starving" Chunkz said.
The prince looked at him for a long moment.
"I didn't think of that" Sharky muttered.
"Course you didn't" Chunkz said lightly, bumping his shoulder.
"You're used to eating off gold plates" Chunkz said.
Sharky rolled his eyes, but there was no sting in it. He was quiet for a while, staring at his hands. Then.
"Maybe... maybe we could trade. For a night" Sharky said.
Chunkz snorted.
"Trade?" Chunkz asked.
"You teach me how to live like you" Sharky said.
"And I'll teach you... courtly graces" Sharky added.
Chunkz threw his head back and laughed so loudly a stray cat bolted down the alley.
"Oh, this I have to see" Chunkz said.
They started at once. Sharky stood, straightening his shoulders.
"First, posture. Back straight. Head high" Sharky said.
Chunkz mimicked him, puffing his chest so wide he looked like a rooster.
"Majestic enough for you, Your Highness?" Chunkz teased.
"Stop that" Sharky said, though he was already fighting laughter.
"Now, the bow. Left foot back, one hand at the chest, the other behind" Sharky continued.
Chunkz attempted it, wobbling like a drunk duck. His "graceful sweep" nearly tipped him into the gutter. Sharky doubled over, clutching his stomach with laughter.
"Shut up!" Chunkz said, though he was laughing too.
"Your lessons are broken" Chunkz added.
"They're not broken" Sharky said as he wheezed.
"You just have no dignity whatsoever" Sharky added.
Chunkz stood, brushing himself off with exaggerated elegance.
"No dignity? Please. I've got buckets of dignity. Buckets" Chunkz said as he bowed again, even worse this time, flinging out one hand dramatically.
"Behold!" Chunkz added.
Sharky collapsed onto the steps, gasping, tears in his eyes from laughing. He couldn't remember the last time his ribs had hurt this way, from joy, not pressure.
When their laughter finally ebbed, Chunkz slumped down beside him again. He glanced sideways at the boy still catching his breath, his curls sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushed from mirth.
"You're lighter like this" Chunkz said quietly.
Sharky blinked.
"Like what?" Sharky asked.
"Like you're not carrying the crown on your back" Chunkz said.
The prince's smile faltered, softening into something fragile. He looked down, fingers knotting together.
"With you... it feels like I can breathe" Sharky said.
Silence stretched between them. Chunkz's chest tightened, and he didn't dare joke this time.
Instead, he nudged the bottle toward Sharky.
"Then breathe, princeling. The night's still ours" Chunkz said.
And for the first time, Sharky drank without grimacing.
////_////_////_////
The council chamber smelled of smoke and ink. Scrolls littered the long oak table, maps curling at the edges, but all eyes were on Sharky.
"The matter is urgent" Lord Varys said, his thin lips pursed.
"Your Highness, you've been seen in the company of a stranger. A commoner. Repeatedly" Lord Varys added.
Sharky's hands tightened in his lap. His pulse hammered.
"That's absurd" Sharky said.
"The guards reported it" Another advisor pressed.
"A bard. Ill-reputed, by all accounts. Do you deny this?" The advisor added.
Sharky's mouth went dry. His mind flashed with Chunkz's grin, his laugh echoing off the alleys, the warmth of his hand pulling him through crowds.
"I... I know no such man" Sharky said, voice tight.
Murmurs rippled through the chamber. Disbelief. Suspicion.
From the head of the table, his Father's gaze burned like a brand. His father said nothing for a long, suffocating moment, and when he did, his voice was iron.
"Leave us" The King announced.
The advisors bowed, gathering parchment and quills in a rustle of fabric. The heavy doors closed with a thud.
The silence that followed was worse than shouting.
"You shame yourself" The King said finally.
Sharky flinched.
"Father--" Sharky tried to reason.
"You sneak from the palace like a thief. You consort with rabble. With vermin. Do you think the crown is a child's toy to be traded for alleyway trysts?" The King said.
The words struck like lashes. Sharky's throat clenched, but he forced his voice steady.
"He's not a vermin" Sharky said.
The king's head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing.
"He's... he's a friend. And he's more honest than half the vipers in this court" Sharky said as he pressed on, though his palms sweated.
"You will end it. Tonight. Or I will end it for you" His father said as he rose slowly from his chair, the movement deliberate, heavy with threat.
Sharky swallowed hard. He wanted to say yes, to nod, to obey and make the danger vanish. But his chest ached with the memory of Chunkz's voice.
Then breathe, princeling. The night's still ours.
"No" Sharky said as his fists curled.
"No?" The king said as he face went still, stone-hard.
"I won't give him up" Sharky said as his knees trembled, but he lifted his chin.
For a moment, his father simply looked at him, disbelief, then fury, then cold calculation.
"Then pray, boy" The King said softly.
"Pray I never find him" The King added.
That night, in the garret above the cobbler's shop, Chunkz plucked idly at his lute. The notes wavered, unfinished, drifting into the street below. He'd heard whispers already, guards asking about "a bard" the prince's shadow. Some said there was talk of punishment.
He strummed harder, trying to laugh it off.
But the truth gnawed at him.
For the first time since this game began, it wasn't just danger for Sharky. It was danger for him.
And the thought of Sharky, sweet, stubborn, ridiculous Sharky being forced to watch him dragged through palace dungeons...
Chunkz set the lute aside and pressed his palms over his eyes.
"Bloody fool" Chunkz muttered.
"Should've let him go that first night" Chunkz added.
But even as he said it, his heart throbbed with the memory of Sharky's laugh, the way he looked at the stars like they belonged to someone else.
He couldn't walk away.
And somewhere in the palace, Sharky, lying sleepless beneath silk sheets, thought the same.
////_////_////_////
The night was warm, the city alive with murmurs and torchlight. Sharky pulled his hood low as he slipped through the market square, heart racing the familiar rhythm of rebellion. He moved quickly, almost eager tonight, he needed Chunkz more than ever. After his father's warning, every breath within the palace walls had felt like drowning.
He found the bard waiting in their usual alley, lounging against the wall with a grin.
"Took you long enough" Chunkz said, tossing an apple up and catching it.
"I was starting to think you'd come down with noble manners" Chunkz added.
Sharky snorted despite the tightness in his chest.
"Don't tempt me. I've had enough lectures to last a lifetime" Sharky said.
"Then let's waste no time. A toast to another stolen night, eh?" Chunkz said as he straightened, offering the apple.
Sharky reached for it. Their fingers brushed. For a fleeting second, the world was small and perfect, just them, the apple, the stars overhead.
Then the alley exploded with noise.
Boots thundered on cobblestones. Torches flared.
"By order of the crown!" Guards surged in from both ends of the street, steel flashing, shields raised.
"No--" Sharky tried to protest as his blood iced.
Chunkz reacted faster. He shoved Sharky back, drawing himself tall, defiant, even as rough hands seized his arms.
"Run, go!" Chunkz
But Sharky couldn't move. His hood was ripped away, and in the torchlight, gasps rang out. The prince, caught like a thief in the gutter.
"Your Highness. This farce ends tonight" The captain of the guard said as his face was grim as stone.
Two men grabbed Sharky by the shoulders, forcing him upright.
"Let him go! I command you! He's done nothing!" Sharky shouted, twisting.
Chunkz was already bound, wrists tied cruelly behind his back. Yet he still managed a smirk, chin lifted.
"Careful" Chunkz said, voice dripping mockery.
"Manhandled royalty's favorite pet? That won't look good in the songs" Chunkz added.
The guards snarled, shoving him to his knees.
"I said let him go!" Sharky yelled as he thrashed against the hands holding him.
"Your father warned you. You consort with filth, and now you'll answer for it. Both of you" The captain said, his gaze was cold.
Sharky's stomach lurched. The trap was perfect,every corner sealed, every eye watching. The advisors hadn't just guessed. They'd been waiting. Waiting for him to walk into their snare.
Chunkz looked over his shoulder then, just once. And in that look, half grin, half apology, Sharky saw everything.
The promise of laughter. The truth of loneliness. The bond they hadn't dared name.
And then the guards dragged them apart.
Sharky was hauled toward the palace gates, shame burning hotter than the torches, chains heavier than any crown.
Behind him, Chunkz's voice rang out across the cobblestones, mocking, fearless, for Sharky's ears alone.
"Oi, princeling! Don't pout too much. I'll make prison look good!" Chunkz said.
Sharky twisted for one last glimpse, but the torches swallowed it whole.
////_////_////_////
The throne room was vast and cold, its high windows bleeding moonlight onto the marble floor. Sharky stood at its center, stripped of his hood, his disguise, his freedom. The palace guards lingered like statues at the walls, but the only gaze that mattered was the one fixed on him from the dais.
The King leaned forward on the throne, his crown glinting in the pale light.
"Kneel" His Father commanded.
Sharky's legs buckled without thought. His knees cracked against the stone. His palms pressed flat. His head bowed.
"Father" Sharky whispered. His throat ached.
"Please. I beg you. Spare him" Sharky begged.
The silence stretched. Sharky forced himself to keep speaking, the words tumbling out in a rush.
"You can take anything from me. I'll obey, I'll study harder, I'll marry who you say, I'll--" Sharky paused as his voice cracked.
"I'll be the heir you want. Just don't kill him" Sharky continued, tears streaming down his face.
The king's expression did not waver.
"You make bargains as though you are already a king. You are not. You are a boy led astray by a jester" The King said as he remained cold.
"He's more than that!" Sharky yelled as he lifted his head, desperation burning through his fear.
The word rang too loudly in the vast chamber. The echo mocked him.
His father's eyes narrowed.
Sharky's chest heaved. He tried again, softer, trembling.
"He saved me. More than once. He's not... he's not a threat. He's not. Please" Sharky pleaded.
The king rose, robes dragging like stormclouds as he descended the steps. His shadow loomed over Sharky, heavy, suffocating.
"You shame this house" The King said coldly.
"You shame yourself. You kneel before me, not in reverence, but in pleading for a gutter-rat" The King added.
Sharky's nails bit into the marble.
Because he's the only one who didn't expected me to be too high and perfect
He's the only person that made me feel like I can be myself
I kneeled because I love him
Words he didn't have the guts to say.
The King studied his son for a long, punishing silence. Then, with a flick of his hand.
"He will not die" The King announced.
Sharky's breath caught. Relief surged, wild and blinding.
But then.
"He will remain in chains. In the dungeon. A reminder to you of the company you chose. You will see him rot before your eyes, and you will remember what your curiosity costs" The King said.
The words dropped like stones into Sharky's gut.
"No-- no, that's-- " Sharky said as he scrambled forward on his knees, clutching at the hem of his father's robe.
"Please. Don't cage him. He's done nothing!" Sharky pleaded.
The king yanked his robes free, his face carved from iron.
"Better a cage than a grave. That is all the mercy I will grant. Take it, or lose him entirely" His Father said,
Sharky's body shook. His tears struck the marble in soundless drops. He pressed his forehead to the floor, teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached.
"I... accept" Sharky whispered.
The guards stepped forward to drag him away. His father turned back to the throne, already finished with him.
As Sharky stumbled to his feet, the chains clinking in his mind, only one thought remained.
Chunkz lives. But at what cost?
////_////_////_////
The crown was heavier than Sharky ever imagined.
It pressed cold and merciless against his skull, its weight sinking into his bones as though forged from iron instead of gold. He knelt at the center of the throne room, the marble beneath him gleaming, polished for ceremony. Torches flickered in the sconces, smoke curling toward the vaulted ceiling. Every advisor, every noble, every guard stood witness.
A crown pressed down onto his brow. It wasn't a coronation, it was a sentence. The weight was crushing, heavier than any chains.
"Rise, my son. Rise, heir to this kingdom" The king's voice boomed, filling the vaulted hall.
But Sharky did not feel like rising. His legs trembled beneath him, his chest hollow, his throat raw.
The doors groaned open.
The sound of iron dragging across stone broke the silence.
Chunkz staggered into view, dragged by two guards, wrists bound in iron shackles. His clothes were torn, his lip split, one eye swollen. Yet his posture was still cocky, tilted at an angle that mocked the severity of the moment.
Gasps rippled through the court. A criminal in the sacred hall.
The murmurs of the court hissed like snakes. "The bard" "The commoner" "The disgrace"
Sharky's throat closed. He wanted to rise, to run, to rip away the chains. But his knees stayed pressed to the marble, nailed there by the crown's weight and his father's gaze.
Chunkz spotted him immediately. Their eyes locked across the hall. For a heartbeat, it was as if no one else existed, just the prince in gilded chains of duty, and the bard in iron ones.
The king's gaze cut like a blade.
"Here stands the rat who corrupted my son. A traitor to the crown. Denounce him, Sharky. Name him what he is, and cast him from your heart. Do it, before your court, before your people" The King announced.
Sharky's breath caught. His eyes locked on Chunkz.
Blood stained the bard’s lip, but he still managed a crooked grin.
"Don’t worry, princeling" Chunkz rasped, voice hoarse but playful.
"I’ll write a song about you. Make you sound taller than you are" Chunkz added.
A bitter laugh rippled weakly from him, even as blood dripped onto the floor.
Sharky’s vision blurred. His hands shook against his knees. He wanted to scream, to run, to fight but the crown burned against his skull, sealing his silence.
"Speak" The King commanded.
"This man..." Sharky forced the words, each one a dagger.
"This man is a liar. A deceiver. A parasite who sought to stain the crown" Sharky said.
The courtiers murmured approval.
Chunkz's smirk faltered, just for a second. Then his eyes hardened. He laughed, sharp and bitter, and spat blood onto the marble floor.
"Parasite, huh?" Chunkz said, voice hoarse.
"Guess even princes can learn to bite" Chunkz added.
Sharky's throat burned, but he couldn't answer. He couldn't even look. He turned his face away, eyes fixed on the gilded throne instead of the man being dragged from the chamber.
The chains clattered louder as Chunkz was hauled backward.
"You'll never be free" Chunkz said, staring right into Sharky's eyes. Hopeless.
The doors slammed shut.
The echo lingered.
Sharky knelt there, the crown pressing into his skull, the silence around him louder than any scream.
And though the court cheered the ceremony, inside, Sharky felt only the weight of absence.
////_////_////_////
The hall was empty.
The throne loomed at the far end, gilded and immense, a monument to power. Upon it sat Sharky, still as stone, the crown gleaming dully under torchlight. The cheers had long since faded, the courtiers dismissed, the doors shut tight.
Silence pressed in.
Sharky's hand lifted slowly, hesitantly, as though it weighed as much as the crown itself. His fingers brushed his lips, soft, fleeting.
That kiss.
The one born of desperation, half a jest, half a lifeline. The kiss that had saved him once, turned away the guards, wrapped danger in laughter. The kiss that lingered in his veins long after the moment had passed.
Now it was only a ghost.
He pressed harder, eyes closing, breath shuddering in his chest. He could almost feel Chunkz's grin against his mouth, hear the sly words whispered after.
You think I can do this to a prince?
Sharky's chest tightened until he could barely breathe.
His hand fell to his lap. His eyes opened. Before him stretched the throne room, vast and gleaming, but it felt like a cage of polished gold. The crown's weight chained him as surely as the irons around Chunkz's wrists.
He sat in silence, a king in name, a prisoner in truth.
A prisoner of duty. Of silence. Of the choice he never made.
And somewhere in the dark, in the dungeons below, the echoes of laughter still haunted the stone.
The king did not move.
And in that silence, he realized he was not a king.
He was a prisoner.
- end -