River slammed the door behind him and locked it with difficulty. The key slipped out of his trembling fingers as sobs raked through him. Tears blurred the world around him, and his frustration only grew when the key kept missing the hole. Once the latch clicked into place and he was safe inside his gloomy cabin room, he laid at the foot of his bed and allowed himself a good cry.

River curled on the cold,oaken floor, hugging his knees to his chest as tears ran in steady streams and soaked into his hair. He grudgingly rubbed the heels of his palms on the rims of his eyes, angry and disgusted at his own display of weakness. Laboured breaths echoed off the walls, back at him,as if mocking him.

The sound of the waves lapping over each other and the distant, hushed murmur of people soothed him down from his tantrum after a short while. He crouched on the floor and stared at a spot on the wall emptily, listening to his own pulse in his ears.

His shoulder was throbbing. He was exhausted.

Raven Alistair was mad at him.

River despised how effortlessly Raven Alistair and his seemingly idiotic words could unravel him.

River was way too prideful to admit it to the man. Sometimes it was the biting words or the venomous tone he would say them in, but he always seemed to find a way to cut him open like a filleted fish. With resentment, River realized it hurt because he was right.

When he said that no one loved him, it was the truth. When he said that he was tired of taking care of him,that was not a lie.

River rubbed his runny nose on the cotton sleeve, ignoring how it left a wet, slimy stain on the fabric. His face was sticky with tears. Fine strands of liquid ink hair clung to his rosy cheeks and made them itchy. In the darkness of the cabin, his azure eyes sparkled like gemstones on a riverbed. He wiped them with the back of his hand, trying to rid the curtain of thick lashes of their lingering wetness. Licking his lips,he tasted the salt on them.

Crying because Raven was mad at him was utterly nonsensical, but it has become a routine response. A heavy sigh escaped River's reddened lips, and it eased the weight on his chest a little.

How very laughable! The man was mad at everyone. All the time. His brain must be water-clogged to cry over him.

A soft knock echoed through the cabin room, interrupting his self-pitying session. River hastily gave his miserable face a wipedown with the hem of his shirt and cleared his strained throat. Though his attempts did little to mask the traces of his previous bawling, he rose and unlocked the door. The polite knock hinted at only one possible visitor.

Just as he expected, Aithan Alistair stepped over the threshold into the cabin. He carried in a wooden tray cradling a fancy glass teapot with a warm blue drink and a covered porcelain bowl emitting the comforting aroma of his signature porridge dish. He looked lost for a second as they made awkward eye contact—blurred blue meeting bright gold.

“I’ll come later, yes?” He set the tray cautiously on the table and turned to leave.

“No, no. it’s fine.” River pulled a chair out for the older man and invited him to be seated.

Aithan hesitated for a moment but, in the end, settled on the wooden chair. He nodded at a vacant seat in front of him and reached for the tea pot. “Please join me for some tea, your highness,” he invited, handing a dainty glass cup to River.

River had no appetite, but he could say no to him. He accepted the spotless cup with both hands and held it while Aithan filled it halfway with the light blue, sweet-smelling liquid. The warmth seeped onto his chilly fingertips.

“My Lord can address me as he wishes." River scraped the surface of the tea with the nail of his pinkie, removing floating bits of tea leaves. "I'm not much of a prince, anyway."

Aithan regarded him with his usual all-knowing serenity. His amber iris seemed even more alluring, with the blues of the tea reflecting off them when he sipped on the cup. "Riv"

That was fast.

"Is the tea good?" He queried, pushing a small platter of hard-boiled candy toward him.

"It is," River agreed. The tea was not bitter or harsh. It was mostly sweet with a tangy aftertaste. The aroma was floral and pleasant, having a calming effect.

"It is made of a blue flower that is native to the North." Aithan poured himself another half a cup. "It's only in season for a single month a year."

River's eyes went wide, and he promptly pulled back his hand that was extended for a second helping of the tea. They might as well be chugging liquid gold. Tea made of flowers was generally more expensive. Judging by the aroma, rare violet color, and rich taste, this single sip alone must be worth more than River's whole existence.

"His majesty has taken quite a liking to this particular type of tea," Aithan said, filling River's cup to the brim despite his protests.

Are you trying to indebt me to Raven Alistair !? Please give me a cup of your ordinary,cheap tea!

"He didn't strike me as a tea-enjoyer," River commented.

"He is not." Aithan Alistair jumped a brow, a glint of mischief dancing in his molten gold eyes. "He believes only pretentious people like tea and complains it tastes odd. In fact, I've never seen him drinking tea before."

River regarded the blue elixir with awe. What is this miraculous flower that made Raven Alistair cheat on his darling wine?

"He must really love its taste, then," River said, giving him a small smile. He was not enjoying talking about the walking tempest of a man this soon after their bicker, but if he was offered good tea over it, he had no complaints.

"I believe his majesty just likes the flower this tea comes from." Aithan gracefully unwrapped a candy with his slender fingers and pushed it in his mouth.

River tilted his head, all his previous anger towards the man forgotten. Profound confusion took its place.

Alistair ? Liking flowers? What is this? Omens of the apocalypse?

"Or rather," Aithan neatly folded the wrapper until it was no bigger than a pea. "The flowers remind him of someone important to him."

River fidgeted with the glass cup, deep in thought. He never expected Raven Alistair to be the type to hold such deep sentiments. He was so crude in his conduct that River always thought of him as someone shallow and easy with his affairs.

"He cares deeply about people around him and feels responsible for their well-being."

River glanced at Aithan, eyes wide.

"He is not very nice about it," Aithan said as he poured River the last bit of tea, "but he was worried sick about you."

River drew lines along the rim of the cup, not knowing how to face the older man. Suddenly, it felt like it was all his fault that Alistair was mad at him.

With shame, he admitted to himself that it was, in fact, all his fault.

"I'll talk to him." River sighed heavily. "I was not very nice,either."

Aithan bobbed his head once solemnly. "You do that."

He collected the cups from the tray and left the porridge on the table top."We have docked."

"Where is it?"

"Frostgate": Aithan picked up the wooden tray and turned to leave, but froze on his tracks. His brows knitted in concern, and he gently rubbed River on his back.

"Are you alright? Feeling faint?" He questioned me.

The river had indeed gone as pallid as a newly whitewashed wall. His eyes nervously darted outside the hatch window of the cabin, and his bottom lip quivered.

"I'll lay down a bit," he managed to smile ardorously, and Aithan tipped his head in approval.

"Eat first," he advised, and he left, swiftly closing the door behind him.

Frostgate. River thought, his heart squeezing in fear.

For a minute, he was certain the storm last night was God's doing.

 
Author has something to say.

Author was very sick past week. It is only now she is recovering a little.

The chapter is very bad in my humble opinion and it is kind of a filler chapter to help me get out of my rut.

Please ignore bad writting .

The tattoo