Categories > Original > Romance > Saintism
Sitting at his desk all day replying to months old letters was not how Sebastian had pictured his day going. Preferably, he'd still be in bed but here he was in his dust filled study avoiding his father. Last week, he'd had his fiancé bent over in front of the window. Her breasts swayed with every thrust and he'd been fully enjoying their lovemaking when his father, Roland, had burst into the room without warning. Promptly ignoring what he'd walked in on, he began to give Sebastian an earful on ignoring his orders. The lecture lasted hours and even just thinking of it now made Sebastian's ears ring. But today he was hiding for a different reason.
Roland was insisting he escort the empress to the spire, and would not take no for an answer. He figured this must be her doing, his father never before cared if the two of them interacted at all. In fact he encouraged Sebastian to turn a blind eye to his own neglect and continue on as if he didn't have a mother. He would rather be back on the battlefield than spend a moment in her presence.
He sat back in his plump scarlet and gold armchair, giving up on the pretense of working. The words had begun to blur together, and if he stared at paperwork any longer his mind would go numb. From his study he had an excellent view of not only the rose garden below in its many shades of pink, white, and red but the city as well. Although the people were near ants from this height, it always interested him to watch what he would never truly be a part of. From a young age he was taught that he and his family were always above the common people, almost as if they were their own entity separate from the land and people they lorded over. Which is why it infuriated his father to no end that the order of Illarwyn would act as if they were above the royal family and the law itself.
If Roland attempted to tax the commoners more, the order would intervene. When there was an attempt to end the black market (which commoners used to get around the taxes and laws set in place) the order was the first to challenge it. Sebastian had never seen his father turn so red, as when the archon took him to task in the throne room filled with nobles. It had been glorious. Looking out of the window he stared at one of the towers in the spire. His eyes rested on a row of silver walking past the windows in that tower. Acolytes he thought to himself as he watched them climb. One of them was lagging behind the others.
This one stopped and bent at the waist, seeming to pause to catch their breath. The others halted to wait on the straggler, and his eyes grew to saucers when they lifted their hood up. Warm. That was all he could think of when seeing the woman in the window. Despite the distance, her rich brown skin was a stark contrast against her light blue dress and silver cloak. Her long dark hair shone gold on the ends of it and he wished he had a closer view so he could see her face clearly. He felt something in his gut, some pull towards her and he stood up to stand in front of the window. Sebastian longingly watched her continue to slowly climb the stairs, his heart hammering in his chest.
She suddenly turned to look out the window and he knew that their eyes met. He could feel the electric shock of it. Turning away, she continued up and around a curve, out of view. He bonelessly sat back in his chair, dazed. Something profound had happened. Something inside him had changed by the sight of her and he could think of nothing else than wanting to see her face. He'd never felt so drawn to a stranger before, and as nonsensical as it sounded even to him he could feel the significance of this event.
"His imperial majesty—"
The door to his study burst open and Roland entered, thunder in his pale blue eyes. The emperor looked every bit of his 56 years of age, and the stress of his tumultuous reign showed by the white streaks of hair on his temples and peppered in his beard. His hair rivaled his son's in its darkness, and his face was a near perfect reflection except for the hard line of his mouth set in controlled anger. Sebastian's own countenance was quickly schooled into one of carefully practiced frost, giving away no sense of his shaken state.
A servant dressed in fine red and gold livery hurriedly pulled out the chair opposite Sebastian. Roland sat down in it, flipping his white fur lined cape upwards to rest behind him.
"So here's where you're hiding from your duty. Like a child." Roland said, looking down his nose at Sebastian in distain.
"Who said I was hiding? I have work to do. Unlike you, if you have time to skulk around the castle looking for me." he replied, affecting a similar haughty look.
"Watch your mouth boy. If you came when I called I wouldn't have to chase you. You will escort your mother to her meeting tomorrow afternoon. Without any of your childish games." Roland said pointedly, fixing Sebastian with a glare that would have intimidated him into compliance when he was younger. He considered saying no to be contrary. He wanted nothing to do with that woman, let her be embarrassed when she shows up alone without her hated son. But a flash of dark hair and warm skin crossed his mind. If she's part of the order, the only way he'd meet her is in the spire. And with that woman occupied with the archon, he'd be free to explore the grounds in search of her.
But he couldn't outright agree to going. Despite wanting to meet the girl he saw, his entire being balked at being ordered about and insulted into doing anything that Roland or that woman wanted.
"If Hilda wants an escort, she's free to take one of the guards that frequent her bed chamber." Sebastian shrugged, wielding his words as a weapon. He knew her past infidelity was a sore spot for his father. Especially after his younger brother, Arthur, had been a by-product of one of her affairs.
Arthur had been a gentle and easy going boy three years younger than Sebastian, with sandy brown hair and dark brown eyes. He'd been well loved by the people and had been a devout member of the order as well as he'd gotten older. He'd died seven years ago before reaching his majority, and had he lived he'd have turned 24 tomorrow.
He knew Hilda went every year for Arthur's memorial service, and this would be the first year he'd been made to go. Previously, any attempt from him to celebrate his brother's memory or mourn his loss had been met with hysterics. He'd been kicked out of the funeral early, and still to this day did not understand her hatred she'd had for him when she doted upon his brother.
He'd never treated Arthur like anything less than a brother regardless of the circumstances of his birth. In fact Arthur had been his best friend and confidant despite their mother's antics. He still grew misty eyed remembering them playing together, and fishing at the lake at the edge of the rose garden.
"Do NOT speak to me of things you have no business in." Roland's face bloomed red splotches on his cheeks and Sebastian could tell he was gearing up for a lecture.
"Fine." He said nonchalantly and sat back, arms behind his head.
"Fine?" Roland spluttered "FINE? HAVE YOU NO SENSE IN YOUR HEAD? TO SPEAK TO ME IN SUCH A WAY—"
"I'm assuming you've got nothing else coherent to say." Sebastian said flippantly, easing out of his relaxed pose to stand "I'll see you both tomorrow then."
"WHERE ARE YOU GOING?" Roland bellowed as Sebastian took a step out of the door.
"To get exceedingly, gloriously, drunk." He smiled back.
Roland was insisting he escort the empress to the spire, and would not take no for an answer. He figured this must be her doing, his father never before cared if the two of them interacted at all. In fact he encouraged Sebastian to turn a blind eye to his own neglect and continue on as if he didn't have a mother. He would rather be back on the battlefield than spend a moment in her presence.
He sat back in his plump scarlet and gold armchair, giving up on the pretense of working. The words had begun to blur together, and if he stared at paperwork any longer his mind would go numb. From his study he had an excellent view of not only the rose garden below in its many shades of pink, white, and red but the city as well. Although the people were near ants from this height, it always interested him to watch what he would never truly be a part of. From a young age he was taught that he and his family were always above the common people, almost as if they were their own entity separate from the land and people they lorded over. Which is why it infuriated his father to no end that the order of Illarwyn would act as if they were above the royal family and the law itself.
If Roland attempted to tax the commoners more, the order would intervene. When there was an attempt to end the black market (which commoners used to get around the taxes and laws set in place) the order was the first to challenge it. Sebastian had never seen his father turn so red, as when the archon took him to task in the throne room filled with nobles. It had been glorious. Looking out of the window he stared at one of the towers in the spire. His eyes rested on a row of silver walking past the windows in that tower. Acolytes he thought to himself as he watched them climb. One of them was lagging behind the others.
This one stopped and bent at the waist, seeming to pause to catch their breath. The others halted to wait on the straggler, and his eyes grew to saucers when they lifted their hood up. Warm. That was all he could think of when seeing the woman in the window. Despite the distance, her rich brown skin was a stark contrast against her light blue dress and silver cloak. Her long dark hair shone gold on the ends of it and he wished he had a closer view so he could see her face clearly. He felt something in his gut, some pull towards her and he stood up to stand in front of the window. Sebastian longingly watched her continue to slowly climb the stairs, his heart hammering in his chest.
She suddenly turned to look out the window and he knew that their eyes met. He could feel the electric shock of it. Turning away, she continued up and around a curve, out of view. He bonelessly sat back in his chair, dazed. Something profound had happened. Something inside him had changed by the sight of her and he could think of nothing else than wanting to see her face. He'd never felt so drawn to a stranger before, and as nonsensical as it sounded even to him he could feel the significance of this event.
"His imperial majesty—"
The door to his study burst open and Roland entered, thunder in his pale blue eyes. The emperor looked every bit of his 56 years of age, and the stress of his tumultuous reign showed by the white streaks of hair on his temples and peppered in his beard. His hair rivaled his son's in its darkness, and his face was a near perfect reflection except for the hard line of his mouth set in controlled anger. Sebastian's own countenance was quickly schooled into one of carefully practiced frost, giving away no sense of his shaken state.
A servant dressed in fine red and gold livery hurriedly pulled out the chair opposite Sebastian. Roland sat down in it, flipping his white fur lined cape upwards to rest behind him.
"So here's where you're hiding from your duty. Like a child." Roland said, looking down his nose at Sebastian in distain.
"Who said I was hiding? I have work to do. Unlike you, if you have time to skulk around the castle looking for me." he replied, affecting a similar haughty look.
"Watch your mouth boy. If you came when I called I wouldn't have to chase you. You will escort your mother to her meeting tomorrow afternoon. Without any of your childish games." Roland said pointedly, fixing Sebastian with a glare that would have intimidated him into compliance when he was younger. He considered saying no to be contrary. He wanted nothing to do with that woman, let her be embarrassed when she shows up alone without her hated son. But a flash of dark hair and warm skin crossed his mind. If she's part of the order, the only way he'd meet her is in the spire. And with that woman occupied with the archon, he'd be free to explore the grounds in search of her.
But he couldn't outright agree to going. Despite wanting to meet the girl he saw, his entire being balked at being ordered about and insulted into doing anything that Roland or that woman wanted.
"If Hilda wants an escort, she's free to take one of the guards that frequent her bed chamber." Sebastian shrugged, wielding his words as a weapon. He knew her past infidelity was a sore spot for his father. Especially after his younger brother, Arthur, had been a by-product of one of her affairs.
Arthur had been a gentle and easy going boy three years younger than Sebastian, with sandy brown hair and dark brown eyes. He'd been well loved by the people and had been a devout member of the order as well as he'd gotten older. He'd died seven years ago before reaching his majority, and had he lived he'd have turned 24 tomorrow.
He knew Hilda went every year for Arthur's memorial service, and this would be the first year he'd been made to go. Previously, any attempt from him to celebrate his brother's memory or mourn his loss had been met with hysterics. He'd been kicked out of the funeral early, and still to this day did not understand her hatred she'd had for him when she doted upon his brother.
He'd never treated Arthur like anything less than a brother regardless of the circumstances of his birth. In fact Arthur had been his best friend and confidant despite their mother's antics. He still grew misty eyed remembering them playing together, and fishing at the lake at the edge of the rose garden.
"Do NOT speak to me of things you have no business in." Roland's face bloomed red splotches on his cheeks and Sebastian could tell he was gearing up for a lecture.
"Fine." He said nonchalantly and sat back, arms behind his head.
"Fine?" Roland spluttered "FINE? HAVE YOU NO SENSE IN YOUR HEAD? TO SPEAK TO ME IN SUCH A WAY—"
"I'm assuming you've got nothing else coherent to say." Sebastian said flippantly, easing out of his relaxed pose to stand "I'll see you both tomorrow then."
"WHERE ARE YOU GOING?" Roland bellowed as Sebastian took a step out of the door.
"To get exceedingly, gloriously, drunk." He smiled back.
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