His hands were fisted into white balls at his thighs as the agitation pulsed through his chest. The woman beside him, wearing her fancy jewels and that god-forsaken ball gown that she had been on and on about for weeks clicked her tongue with a dismissive shake of her head.

“Oh don’t start. You knew it was out of the question. We have a charity function and then a press conference. You will attend with a smile on your face and I don't want to hear any more nonsense about sports games with these friends of yours.” 

“But Mom, you said--” He knew it was useless, but he couldn't help it. He rarely ever asked for anything and now that he finally had some friends, now that he had finally been invited to something with them instead of spending every single day alone like he had grown so used to, he’d admittedly gotten a bit of a taste for it. And this game was the first thing that she had invited him to herself. He could still feel the warmth of her hand where she grabbed his pinky and intertwined it around her own and the way her face lit up when he gave in and promised he would come. And now, he had been stupid enough to get his hopes up that he might actually be able to make it.

She smoothed her perfectly manicured hands over the skirt of her dress with her lips pursed and eyebrows level on her face. Not even the tension he saw flashes of in the irises of her brown eyes would wrinkle her skin. She had too much composure within her being for that. “--you said you would think about it. Even Baekhyun is going and--and Sara is going. Mom, I promised Sara--”

He heard the scoff from . 

“Baekhyun--” the name left her lips with a scowl behind it, “has been afforded certain liberties by being born of that woman. He is not in line for the throne, nor is he the son of a queen. You know the crown princes have to live up to a certain standard, Kyungsoo. Minseok and Junmyeon already know these things because they are older and more mature. It’s time for you to grow up and accept your fate. You could be king someday.--

--Where is the driver? What is the holdup?” She peered out the tinted window, her focus pulled to the two men in black suits who discussed something at the door of the garage. Kyungsoo didn't even pay attention to their faces anymore. They were employees. They were the help. They were always faceless and voiceless masses that did as they were told, bowed at the neck, bowed at the waist, bowed on their knees, bowed on the floor. All he ever saw of them were various views of the top of their heads or their backs. 

Until Sara, the first one who dared to look up. Dared to look into his face as he walked through the kitchens. The first set of eyes to meet him as a peer, then as a friend. The first person to openly laugh at him when he failed so monumentally at cracking his very first egg into a pan at the stovetop of the servant's kitchen. He’d never been laughed at before and the sound felt shocking at first. He remembered the embarrassment as half of the slippery slimy egg-white splattered down the edge of the pan and the yolk followed, slipping out entirely with a pop it hit the cooktop with a mess of bright yellow and broken shell pieces.

“Remind me who this Sara is again--” It was unusual for his mother to actually pay enough attention to remember faces and names of the insignificant and Kyungsoo snapped his jaw shut like a steel trap, opting for silence now as the crushing disappointment surged up hot inside of him in waves. He wouldn't be able to go. Sara would sit with Baekhyun and they would laugh and cheer for the winning team together as they ate snacks and made inside jokes that they would reference together like some sinful secret that they shared. They would lament on poor Kyungsoo who was never allowed to join them for any of the fun and snigger together when he walked by, unaware and out of the loop. He would be too shy to ask to be let in on the jokes. He would pretend like it didn't bother him one bit...that close together laughter they shared outside of him.

“Oh, is she the cook’s granddaughter? The older one with the speech impediment? She’s a bit odd.” 

Kyungsoo didn't know what a speech impediment was and the judgment on her voice raised his defenses. Sara didn't have a damn thing wrong with her. Sara was his friend. She was quiet just like he was. She was genuine and she didn't even care about things like ‘crown prince’ or ‘bastard’. Words that followed him and his brothers like some sort of curse on their heels. Words that segregated them from each other. Allowed to be close, but not too close. Allowed to trust up to a point, but never to cross that point. Because of things like birthrights and betrayals; treasons and royal secrets. 

He heard it in her chest with her inhale. It felt like a royal judgment as if she lifted her gavel with the inhale of breath she took and his stubborn eyes turned to his mother seconds before she spoke.

“You need to stay away from that girl, Kyungsoo. She isn’t fit for a prince to associate with. How many times have I told you not to trust people so easily?” 

“She’s my friend.” The fear flashed up hot in the back of his throat with what he was sure she was saying. What she always said when he spoke to her about friends and trust. 

“People like us don't have friends, Kyungsoo. You have no idea how this world works. She might seem like a friend, but you cannot trust anyone here. I don't know how many times I need to tell you this for you to understand.” 

It was happening again. He could feel it slipping through his fingers. Yet another thing in his life that would be taken from him with absolute disregard for what he wanted and the thought of losing something else, of something else being taken from him made the air inside this car feel too stuffy. As if no matter how many deep breaths he took his lungs refused to take the air inside them. 

“She’s my f-friend,” his voice was thready to his own ears and he swallowed again and again, trying to keep himself together when all he wanted to do was fight this. 

“She is nothing to you, Do Kyungsoo. Don’t you dare make me repeat myself.” Her voice had an aura all of its own and he watched as she lifted a finger in his direction, striking outward with her mighty gavel in his direction. Daring him to disobey. Daring him to even think about it. 

The look in his eyes was hard enough to pierce through her own for a split second, despite his complete silence as he sat in the seat beside her. Despite the thick, deafening silence that surrounded him like a fog and transformed him from a well dressed, well-put-together young prince into nothing more than a petulant child holding his breath to get his way. 

“When you are older, you will understand why I do these things. I need to protect you from them. I do this to protect you from them Kyungsoo. Because I love you and because I am all you have in here.” 

Her reasons meant nothing. All he saw was the sparkle of the jewels around her neck and all he heard was the heavy ax slamming down into his chest. The absolute word of the queen. Words that were as good as gospel and could rip and rage through his world with such grand sweeping laws, promising well intentions, promising future understanding but delivering only pain. Only loneliness, sadness, and isolation. 

“Promise me that you will remove her from your life. Or I will be forced to remove her myself.” 

He wouldn't cry. He promised himself years ago that he was done with that. Crying did nothing. Begging did even less. The force with which he squeezed his hands together made his bones ache with the efforts and he closed his eyes in defeat. 

When the queen removed someone from the palace it usually involved the entire family. Their lives would be upturned. Families would be ripped apart and homes would be broken. He’d seen it happen before with his brothers. When Crown Prince Minseok had taken a stand because of something as trivial as love, the resulting tsunami that flooded through the palace took countless names and swept them away. Kyungsoo remembered the broken look on his brother’s face when the news of her death reached him. Her death by her own hand, or so they told him. Minseok had been 15 at the time and that was the last time he ever used such a stupid word like ‘love’. It was also the last time he felt like a real person. He was no longer Kyungsoo’s older brother Minseok. He was Crown Prince Minseok. He was untouchable. Walls and barriers both physical and emotional built so well, nothing real could ever seep through to touch him ever again. 

“What is taking so long?” She was irritated now and she reached for the handle of the car door with purpose, pulling it back with force as she pushed the door open to step outside. The men in the suits huddled with heads together and Kyungsoo watched her retreating back as his emotions flooded through his mind again. Filling him with anger. Desperate anger that flowed through his veins like a busted hydrant. His breathing felt too quick for his lungs to keep up with and he could feel the pounding of his own heart within his chest as he looked around at his surroundings. 

The door she vacated still open, the slick slippery leather seats around him. Expensive and extraordinary. The space between the driver’s and passenger’s seats and the illuminated dash lights that looked just like the fancy racing games he played all by himself up in his carefully warded off prison tower. His hands were trembling when he wiped at his brow and he looked out through the open door at the men in suits who had quickly dipped heads, dipped their faces and bent their backs with profuse apologies for the holdup. He would not hear their excuses. They were too far away, but he could see her back, held up high. Chin up in the air and a look of annoyance on her beautiful face. 

Kyungsoo’s skin felt warm. He felt alive all of a sudden as the urge to leap flashed through his consideration. He could… he felt just desperate enough to…

The car was on; keys in the ignition with the parking brake engaged and the center shifter in park. 

When he leaped, he did it faster than he’d moved before. If he thought about it, he might lose the nerve. He was small and fast and the men in the suits were turning and walking close now. Returning to the car. He couldn't afford to miss the chance and when he leaped, he landed in the driver’s seat, feeling smaller than he had ever felt in his whole life. The pedals and the wheel were father away from him than he anticipated and no amount of straining or reaching could make this feel like driving his racing games up in his room. 

A sound shouted out when he pulled the brake up and released the lever. All at once, the men ran, rushing up to the car and the shocked wide eyes of his mother’s face felt sweet on his tongue. It made him laugh, the way she broke her calm careful exterior and moved fast toward him. 

‘A queen never runs.’ He said to himself in his best impression of the queen’s flippant voice. Yet she was running now, her big dress flipping and flowing with each step she took and the roar the engine made when he pressed on the gas flooded out his ears, taking each frightful shout from the men and each rough pounding of angry fists on the glass of the driver’s side window and mixing it with the steady roar of that powerful engine. Only the car did not move forward. Looking down he realized he had yet to put center shifter into drive. He had never actually driven a real car before. 

Seconds...it took mere seconds for the queen to reach the door. She had somehow managed to reach through the opened back door to unlock the driver's side door beside him and he wondered at her speed. Only for a moment though, because when he felt the warmth of her hands on his chest, on his arms, trying desperately to stop what was happening, he managed to shift into drive and this time when he pushed on the gas the car did move. 

The car did move.

And his eyes were closed. The raging inside his own chest burned with each breath and he felt dizzy. His anger, his all-consuming anger had faded with the sickening sounds he heard. With the wetness, he felt against his shoulder and the steady hum of that car engine that roared to life below his feet and all around him. 

The car did move, but for only a moment. But it was enough for the woman, for his mother, the queen and the woman who had spent her entire existence finding any and every way to love and protect him, it was enough time for his mother to try and stop it. To try and stop him and to try and stop the car. 

The car did not stop. Not with his efforts to turn the wheel, or with his foot angrily stomping on the brakes as she cried out beside him and a new sensation took over his existence. Something different than anger, this was more. This was all-consuming and debilitating. It was fear. It came with the sounds he heard, and with the warm wetness, he felt when that car finally stopped moving forward. 

He...He had…

The steel light post, identical to the numerous ones that lined the driveway was what finally stopped it. When his eyes opened, the engine still roared below him and yet the sounds were different. There was a gasping beside him and when he reached his fingers up to touch her face he expected her to scold him. Caught him trying to make off with the car. Caught him trying to make it to his little soccer game with his friends. She’d caught him being bad again, surely the lectures and punishments would be many. 

Yet he touched his mother’s face because there was something different there. Her pretty jewels had snapped and lay hanging over . Her beautiful ball gown, torn and stained and ...red now and the light in her eyes, the anger and the admonishing he should have found was gone. Replaced with something else…

He had...He had… The trembling sobs within his own chest took his oxygen from him and the view of her face blurred in the tears that filled his eyes. 

“M-Mom,” He whispered to her face and his fingertips ran along her cheek. “Mom?” the word was fractured against his own ears. His voice too high pitched, too frantic for any sense to be made and yet he said it again and again. Louder this time. Sometimes she didn't listen. Sometimes she was too occupied, mind too full of worry for her to hear him the first time. And when a hand reached in through the passenger side to turn off the engine, he didn’t see the faceless person who owned the arm. 

Kyungsoo didn't see anything but her face that suddenly looked too still. Too silent and too peaceful and she couldn't hear anything from him anymore. 

Faceless men in suits. Those same arms that turned off the engine called to him, pulled at him, urged him to turn and come into their arms but who were they? Who were they to order him around when the queen was here to make those calls? Yet he was pulled at, his cries and pleas ignored as big arms wrapped around his waist and grabbed him, messing up the careful suit his mother had dressed him in. 

“Mom!” he screamed at the top of his lungs now as his desperation reached new levels. It was choking him now, or maybe the tight arm around his chest was the one cutting off his words. “Mommy!!” he cried but she didn't move. She didn't listen or hear his words and he felt the stinging in his eyes with his tears as he was pulled away. 

“Your Highness.” A worried and hushed voice called to him and he felt hands on his chest that shook him. “Your Highness, wake up.” the voice said again. It was no use, his begging went unheard and he grabbed at the doorframe of the car to try and get back inside. 

“Take the prince away at once.” A voice commanded. Louder and harsher than the others that spoke in frantic cries around him. 

“Your Highness, please wake up.” the voice begged again, closer now. Clearer than it had been before and he fought against the tears that spilled over his cheeks, running down his face into his temples as he kicked tangled legs against the too hot, too sticky bed sheets. “Prince Kyungsoo, wake up, you’re dreaming. It’s just a dream.” A voice. A calm and quiet voice that sounded just familiar enough to grab along of his attention, his flighty mind that wanted to dive deeper into the horror that haunted him again and again. 

“Sara?” Kyungsoo called out into the darkness of his room and the hands that shook his chest stilled for a moment. 

“It’s Ara, Your Highness.” She whispered and Kyungsoo’s mind sharpened to her voice. Different. It was different than her sister’s had been, although in the darkness, with the comforting way she spoke to him, sometimes he made the mistake. 

“Of course, Ara. I know you aren’t her.”
The dream was fading, though it’s effects always lasted for hours within his chest. The memories always felt too vivid after the dreams. Always too bright to douse with liquor or . It was hard to drown away the guilt right after the dreams had come. 

“You stayed and she left. Of course, you aren’t Sara.” The name of his friend, who he could no longer call a friend, tasted bitter on his tongue and he reached for the glass of water that Ara had placed on the nightstand to wash away the taste. 

Sara and the look in her eyes when the rumors spread. After the funeral, when the nation had been told the lie that the queen’s death had been an accident, yet the hushed whispers that followed the prince around like a plague had been enough for their friendship to falter. 

He had always been just weird enough, she said once. It’s probably true. I bet he did it and then hid in his room like he always does, he overheard, her voice like knives stabbing straight into his heart. 

Because she had been right. 

He was a murderer.

-

“It was covered up. As soon as it happened, the queen’s death was covered up.” May gripped both of your hands tightly within her own as she spoke in a whisper and your mouth felt too dry as you