The outline of Ravaryn withered against a glowing orange sky. The strong foundations of the few buildings the town once kept despite their poverty, stood desolate and unkempt. Overgrown bushes and thorns wrapped each post, creeping into the smashed windows. Decayed and crumbling, the markets deteriorated to almost dust, not even bone piles and rats willing to overstep the ghostly relic of the town it once was. The fading light cast shadows over the cracked stone path, dried blood staining the grouting. A bittersweet nostalgia for Faolan cursed his mind with memories as they trudged through the meadow to the castle; it was once a peaceful town, poor but leading a simple life of routine. Faolan saw the beauty in that now, but it had come too late. There was no need for riches or grandeur. For a King. They needed only a leader to guide them, secure the future of their trades and settle disputes. A mediator for the charged souls restless in the poverty. He could have fixed it for them, and granted them the peace that conflicted the rich and poor.

They trudged through the woods, trees cut and flowers all but destroyed by carriage marks. It took them many more days than it should've to reach this land, Faolan plagued by sickness against the harsh cull of the season. The death of crops impending. Kai helped him through it, nursing sickness and exuding motivation. Faolan had to make it. To reclaim the title once bestowed upon him. Right the wrongs as much as he could.

They reached the castle, out of place among the reck of the village. Lavish lanterns, hung on pure iron brackets, adorned the outer walls, the windows wider and stained with rich glass. Pictures, even: the King, Feath's golden hair beneath a crown, stood upon a peasant, and another with guards in full armour and uniform beating children. The final one: a boat bearing the rose and thorn symbol, on the window on the very top turret of a tower. Dark green bushes without flowers or buds line the windows.

Faolan and Kai marched to the doors, the doorman drawing swords and crossing them before they could even touch the polished doors. "No visitors, by order of King Feath—" One of the guards lowered his nose to peer at Kai, disdain evident in the exaggerated wrinkle of his nose.

"And certainly no slaves permitted within these sacred halls."

"Slave?" Kai's fists clenched, but Faolan held his hand to his chest.

"Tell Feath that an old friend seeks his company. That is a command, not a request." Both guards point their weapons at Faolan, tips grazing his neck. But Faolan, calm and poised as he believed a King should be, simple pressed the weapon down, away from his face.

The incredulous guards could only stare as he whipped off his hood, and threw his cloak to the ground. He needed no crown for them to recognise him, for how could they forget? They paled, as if looking upon a ghost. Mouthed not a word, but parted as Faolan pushed the door and entered the castle. His castle.

"Take me to Feath." The hunger in his voice stirred the guards to action.

They conducted him through the ornate hall, up a set of stairs and into to the throne room. No longer the bland hall it once was, Faolan hardly recognised it. A hall strewn with gold trimmings that wrapped the lush marble pillars, and gleamed on the reflection on the tiled floor. It was everywhere, the gold, from statues against the walls to the line of skirting sealed at the hem. Eyes abused by the bright luxuries, Faolan squinted at the man perched on the throne. A mighty crown on a set of perfect, golden curls. Freya sat beside him, tear stains and bruises damaging her pristine skin.

"I do not appreciate being disturbed at this hour. I'm busy in thought." He didn't even open his eyes to see his guests. Freya lifted her head, tears dried in the heat now coursing through the room. Live. A catching flame. Kai rested his hand upon the hilt of his sword.

"Thoughts about what, brother? Your regret for purchasing more gold than can fit upon the walls?" Faolan shook the joke out from somewhere deep within; a glimmer of the relationship he once carved with the man before him.

Feath did not smile, however, nor did he stand. He peeled open his eyes, narrowed and stern as he gazed upon the advancing men. "You. You should be dead."

Faolan closed the distance, climbing the steps to his occupied throne. Feath stood abruptly next to Freya, but while she curtseyed, he did not bow. "I hope it's not too much of a disappointment that I'm still alive." Faolan breathed a chuckle, but again, Feath did not display even the hint of a smile. No pleasure at his friends survival. Return.

Faolan reached for the crown, but Feath took a sharp step back. They held a breath. "Forgive me. I am in shock." Feath wipes the flicker of disgust from his face, and sets it with a gentle smile. Eyes never leaving Faolan's, Feath dips into a brief bow, then bestows the crown upon his head. It takes a second for him to withdraw his hands.

The pure weight of such a crown embedded with jewels knocked the discomfort from Faolan, for he could only afford to think upon the responsibility handed back to him. "I ruled, I believe, as you would have. Friend." Feath bowed again, falling into it this time much deeper than the previous. The hairs on Faolan's neck stood.

"He lies." Freya blurted from the side, and for a moment, Feath appeared murderous. Hand poised to strike. Kai caught it before it fell, holding his wrist firmly in a single hand. Feath looked down upon him. The boy. A determined glint in his eyes that Feath was sure he recognised within his own, in the many moments he stood to examine the mirror. A slave shown power and comfort. Competition.

"Your Majesty," Freya curtseyed once more, lips quivering as a single tear separates them, "Feath accepted a trade deal that has seen our children taken in return for riches. There are beatings daily, executions for preposterous reasons. Like gifting food to the weak. Or a blanket to the cold. We cannot go on with such..."

Her voice fades in Faolan's ears, a sudden ringing catching him off balance. The room spun as he fell: an entrapping web. Kai attempted to catch him, but Feath got there first, easing the King to the ground. His crown rolls away. "You are sick." Feath breathes hard over Faolan's face. "Guard. Get the healer-"

"No. Kai. Stay beside me. I'm not sick. This is just..." Kai cradles Faolan's head in his lap, a sharp look to Feath as he retrieves the crown.

"Allow me to help you, brother. You know the conditions of which that trade commenced. I accepted to better the condition of the town. I swear it, the treasures are stored ready to... gift, to the peasants." Feath gulps, but the King takes his hand.

"We must stop this." Freya hisses, fists balled at her sides. A wind a way from the poise in which Faolan once met her.

"No, Freya. We cannot."

"Hush now, Faolan. You need rest. A nice bed and some food will do you good. Freya, inform your maids of our King's return. Get his bed prepared and fetch him some food."

Freya's eyes pucker, but they do not shed a tear as she turns and strides from the room. Feath turns to Kai. "You, go and wash. Your dirty hands cannot stain and spread the illness of which you clearly carry. Scrub hard, and then change into the uniform and armour of the castle force. We can't have rags like you walking about. It's poor show."

Kai stands, but turns to the King for confirmation. "It's okay, Kai. Once I'm rested, I'll see to your rank and position. Your efforts have not and will never be forgotten. Thank you." Feath sneered as Kai bowed to the King's words.

"You have softened, Faolan. Are you sure you can carry the weight of such circumstances."

"Do you doubt me, Feath?"

Feath froze, the smirk on his lips slithering into a humbled grin. "Never, Faolan. As always, you have me to guide you. By your side. Until the end."

Faolan turned to face Feath, the ache in his head streaming tears over his cheekbones. "Thank you, Feath."

"You're welcome. My King."