4 The Dead Lord (1/2)

The Bewitched Soul Alison35 17670K 2022-07-22

The year 1632

The sudden death of The widower King of Brookville caused widespread mourning. A memorial service was performed in the courtyard of the palace. Kings along with their queens and the chamberlains from all four provinces attended the service and paid their last tribute to the royal personage. People from around the province came to pay their last respects to beloved late King Randolph. Meanwhile, a 17-year-old boy stood near the burial vault still as he saw it being carried away from him. His face was void of emotions and expressions. He emitted an aura of coldness and aloofness. Time passed by, he stood still as the sun dipped below the horizon, the momentary colors of dusk began to fade away.

”Rest in peace Father”, Alexander spoke, a tear rolled down his left cheek. The emotions that he had been suppressing in his heart, found a way out in the form of a single tear. Wiping the tears off his left cheek, he started walking towards the castle. His legs had lost all vigor. He stumbled upon a stone and fell on his knees. He bowed his head for a while and then looked up at the starry sky.

”Mother...” he whispered, closing his eyes, this time tears rolled down his cheeks as if they were racing down his perfectly sculpted face.

Seeing the Young Prince in such a dire state, the butler rushed near him. Helping him stand up, he patted the boy's back. Alex smiled at the gentle gesture.

”Take me home, Julius.” he spoke softly.

Surprised by tone, the butler smiled as he spoke, ”Yes. Milord”.

Alex smirked upon hearing this, ”The Lord is dead,” he spoke, his eyes void of emotions.

'No My Lord' the butler spoke nothing. He knew he had more years to serve the Lord.

He smiled.

Upon reaching his bedroom, Alex quietly shut the door. He opened the large window near his bed and laid on the bed. Staring at the full moon, his heart clenched.He imagined how his mother must have looked like. He remembered how his father always used to frown whenever young Alex asked about his mother. He knew that the lady whose portrait hung in The Great Hall was not his biological mother. There was something that the Royal family hid from him.

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But one fine day...

”I need to know who my real mother is My Lord”, the little boy asked his father as his eyes reddened out of frustration.