#this is always followed by jeeves saying ‘sir?’ and me cheering

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

an underrated thing in j&w fanfiction is when bertie innocently says something that could be taken for him expressing romantic feelings for jeeves (or he actually IS expressing romantic feelings) and jeeves.exe stops working for a second. might be my favorite thing actually

[selling-cj]

Whims of Gods

Chapter 1:

The Young Prince

            The teary-eyed Prince stands above the crowd. His hair is cropped short on every side while the top stands on end. Hundreds of eyes stare at him in estranged wonder. Only nine years old, and his father crowns him the heir. He has no idea what’s going on, and, even if he did, he wouldn’t know why. Nobody has the heart yet to tell him yet.

               His father stands proudly next to him, beaming down at the crowd. Against his pale white skin, his red hair lights up like fire. Despite the clear sweat dripping down his face, and the exaggerated leaning on his cane, he keeps a joyful air about him. He pulls his son closer to him, hoping to provide some comfort.

               As the cheering dies down King Thadius leads his son from the stage into the thick of people. Hunters crowd around them the moment they step off stage. Everyone makes offerings to the gods hoping that the Prince may cross into their house when his time comes. Three generations of Hunter Kings prove they don’t have to hope too hard. Shamen and Necromancers pray quietly with each other that Hades would find their houses instead. Tamers decide the best course is to chat idly with the new heir. Tamers never were ones to hope too much.

               Thadius paves a way through the crowd to the back of the room. The others take the hint and leave the two alone. Thadius finds a small cliff in the castle’s design to rest on. He leans his cane against the wall next to him. Hades—a strangely Pascali name for the crowned Prince of Alliel--hides in a corner nearest to his father. The king looks at me, and smiles.

               “Not one for crowds, are you?” His smile is forced, his breathing labored.

               I force myself not to shrink away. Even now I have such a hard time being comfortable around him. I nod.

               He grunts in approval. “They get more and more exhausting each time.” He looks down at Hades and pats his head. “How are you then? Not too scared I hope.”

               Hades buries his head into his knees without a word.

               Thadius’s smile faulters.

               From the mirth, three figures walk regally toward us. Two young men, whom no one would guess are twins, and our mother, who only Hades and I resemble. The tawny brown of her skin stands out against the twins’ blinding whiteness. Jeeves is the thinnest of the bunch with only a bit of muscle to show he’s an army man. Jarsis stands above all the others, broad as mother with no meat on his bones. Mother, Lydia, is by far the shortest, plumpest lady in the whole room. By far the happiest as well. She has hardly a care for any strange looks her way.

               Jeeves walks as stiffly as his position demands. His arms are crossed, and his head held high. His clothes are as stiff as he is. A thick, high collared military coat in red, white, and gold. Black trousers that don’t move with his legs. His black shoes are polished, perhaps a bit too much. He sneers at each person he’s forced to walk past.

               Jarsis walks about cautiously, tapping his walking stick in front of him. His glassy eyes look at nothing in particular. The stiffness of his posture suggests he’s none too comfortable in the crowd. His silken, white robes hang off him like they want to be on the floor instead of on him. His white hair folds over itself, threatening to cover his eyes.

               Mother bounces happily. Her skirt catches under her shoes because she refuses to keep hold of it. Her blue braid swings wildly behind her back. The smile on her face puffs her cheeks out more. The blues and greens of her dress glimmer under the light of the chandelier. She seems to think keeping a hand at Jarsis’s back will keep him from bumping into anything. Jeeves somehow keeps away from Mother’s grasp.

               Lydia kneels to meet Hades. “There, there dear. No need to cry. It’s all just a show, right?”

               “Let the boy cry, Lydia,” Thadius says. “Show or not, a crowd this big would scare anyone.”

               “Even you, Father?” Jarsis’s voice is deliberately soft and angelic. Despite being such a large person, his voice is quite delicate.

               “More than most, I’d say.”

               Mother wraps an arm around Hades before turning to me. “And you, love, how are you taking all this?”

               I pull my knees closer to my chest. They’re already starting to hurt, but I don’t want to let them go.

               “Seems none of us are too good with crowds,” Jeeves huffs.

               Jarsis straightens his back, his smile spreading. “I’d say I’m rather good with them. Speaking to them mostly. Waving a stick around and hitting people’s ankles seems to be frowned upon.”

               Mother’s hand shoots into the air. “I love crowds! There’s always such lively people among them.”

               Jeeves sighs and pushes his red hair out of his face. “Of course. The ones who don’t have to deal with them love them the most. Mind sparing some of your enthusiasm?”

               “Would if I could, Killer.” Jarsis whacks him on the back.

               “It takes a special kind of person to enjoy such a rowdy bunch,” Mother assures.

               Jeeves sighs again.

               Thadius beams proudly at his family. The smile on his face is finally genuine. He gathers up his cane and stands. “I think I’ve had enough of all this noise. But, before I retire,” he looks at me, “Kai, I’d like to talk to you in my study.”

               I feel everyone’s eyes on me, but I can’t shrink away. I gather up my courage, stand, and follow Father to his study. Jeeves brushes a hand across my shoulder as I pass. Comfort without being obvious.

               The Throne room is a closed, circular area with heavy oak doors leading out to various hallways. Most people dare not leave the party in the throne room, and it’s frankly frowned upon to do so. Those who do either live here or work here. The hall to the study is mostly empty save for a few guards. This is the king’s wing, and everyone knows that.

               It’s a maze of twists and turns, and doors to other hallways. Apparently, Thadius’s father was often paranoid despite himself, so he rebuilt various parts of the castle to be deliberately confusing. There are hidden passages behind bookcases and loose stones. Hades and I found one behind the stove in the kitchen once. We followed it all the way to the cemetery. We were so spooked we promised not to tell anyone.

               I run into Father as he stops in front of me. He chuckles as he unlocks the door to his study. The place is horribly bland and depressing. The only things he has is a desk almost as big as he is with a candle in the corner. Two dusty chairs sit in front of it.

               He hobbles to his desk and I follow close behind. The whole study has a strange, unnatural feeling to it. Sitting in the dusty chair forces a weight on me I’ve never experienced. Like the world has just been placed on my shoulders. The look in Father’s eyes is meant to be calming, but all I can focus on are the bags under them growing purple. It highlights his sickly pale skin in the worst way possible. Sweat shines on his forehead.

               “Remind me, child, how old are you?”

               My voice catches in my throat. My mouth goes dry. I’m not entirely sure myself. I think I know the truth, but something in the back of my mind tells me that saying it out loud would put me in danger.

               “No older than Hades, isn’t that right?”

               Does he know? I nod my head.

               He looks down at his desk. A pencil moves between his fingers. “As I thought.” His tone sounds disappointed. He takes a breath and looks back at me. “Though young you may be, I must ask something very important of you.” He mulls something over in his mind, shifting his gaze between my eyes. “Would you consider Hades a friend?”

               I nod eagerly. “Yes, sir.”

               He smiles. “Good.” He leans forward, resting on his arms. “Do you remember your father?”

               My heart wretches. For the first time in a while I’m reminded that the man in front of me—though he’s married to my mother—is still technically my uncle. The mere thought angers me. “I understand my relations well, but you’re the one who raised me. You’re my father.” I can see the heartache in his eyes. He’s torn.

               “Right then.” He leans back. “Cornelius was my Guardian. He kept me safe when I most needed, in every situation he could stick his nose in. So just about every situation.” He laughs to himself before getting serious again. “As Hades is now Crowned Prince he is in need of his own Guardian. Do you know what I’m trying to ask you?”

               I think I do, but I don’t want to be wrong. I stare at him blankly.

               “Kaiton, I understand the problems I am about to instigate by asking this, but I would like you to be Hades’s Guardian.”

               I don’t understand what he means by that, but I hardly know what all is involved with being a Guardian. If all it means is that I keep Hades safe, then I can do that. I do that enough as it is. “Of course.” It comes out so soft.

               He smiles wide. “Good. No need to worry, then.”