Cyril looked up at the king who was almost a foot taller than him. His sparkling hazel eyes glared up at his blue. He let out a slight snort and rolled his eyes when the Osias spoke. "We found him roaming the halls unsupervised when he was supposed to be in his room. I sent someone to alert you when found the room empty but we then found him almost immediately," The guard explained. Cyril's cloak had half fallen off of his shoulders from being manhandled by the guards.
"Hm." the sound Osias made was slightly noncommittal, and he watched Cyril for another long moment. "And just where were you trying to go, little one?" he asked Cyril, well aware that the nickname was only mockery, that it could easily offend Cyril. He didn't really care, though, in all honesty.
Cyril straightened as much as he could in the guard's grasp. He tried not to let his anger show on his face since he didn't want to king to know that he got to him. So he swallowed down all the curses he wanted to throw his way. "The library," he said in a hoarse voice from barely any use. He had a rather strong accent, but he was fluent in 4 languages despite some of the rumors following his silence. Looking up at the king more made his blood boil, though, thinking of how he spoke to him. He shifted slightly, but the guards tightened their hold.
Osias arched an eyebrow. "Why?" he asked. "You could have had a book delivered, if that is what you were truly after." by his tone, it was clear that he did not quite believe Cyril in this matter. "You know quite well that you are not supposed to leave your rooms. I've treated you quite well, Cyril, and is this how you repay me?"
Cyril scrunched his nose and looked away for a moment. He almost felt bad for a moment just out of instinct. In the past, he had been a people pleaser in a way, never wanting to disappoint, but he pushed that down. He had nothing to feel sorry about, and he knew the only reason Osias hasn't killed him is because it would just cause uproar in his kingdom. "Oh yes, how ungrateful of me. Didn't know it was custom to keep your guests locked in a room for months. I wanted to walk down the hall to where I heard the library was. I am not stupid. I won't run I know I wouldn't make it out of your walls and even if I did I'm almost a week's ride away from my home." He looked back up at the king. It's clear that he had thought that possibility through. He was sure he could probably bribe someone to allow him to hide on a ship but it would be impossible just to get to the coast. He knows that he should shut but he hadn't spoken this much in months there's no way he's going to stop now. "Plus maybe I would not cause such trouble if you just figured out what in the hell you're going to do with me."
Osias sighed, letting Cyril rant. "Are you done?" he replied, shaking his head. "If you wanted to go to the library, you should have discussed it with one of the guards, who would have brought the matter to me. I might have let you go." his gaze continued to rest levelly on Cyril, expression almost passive. "As for deciding what to do with you…" he stepped closer, looming over the smaller man as his lip curled faintly. "Do you truly want a hasty decision? I could give you to General Makanor in marriage, if you want a hasty decision." his words were slightly more like a snarl now. Makanor was renowned for cruelty. For abuses and horrific deeds, usually done in wartime when no one cared. But there had always been whispers of murdered lovers, younger men left scarred and traumatized at best, dumped dead on a roadside at worst. "He wants a new spouse, and he's mentioned that he finds you quite easy on the eyes." he cocked his head faintly, eyes expressionless. "How long do you think you would last in his household?"
Cyril tried to keep his face emotionless like the King, but he was always bad at concealing his emotions. The rage in his eyes flashed the fear when Osias spoke of the general. He looked away when his eyes watered and looked at the wall. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Osias wouldn't, right? He hadn't laid a hand on him since he arrived would he just hand him off to a monster? Then again, fro what he's heard, the King wasn't one to make empty threats. Cyril just grit his teeth and silently shook his head.
Osias kept his pale eyes fixed on Cyril, watching his reaction to the threat. To tell the truth, he didn't really want to give Cyril to the general. It would not end well, politically. But it seemed it was a good threat. "Now, to reiterate. If you wish to go to the library, you should discuss it with a guard, like an adult, before sneaking around the palace like a child." his tone was a little more acidic now, but yet still retaining that almost eerie calm.
Cyril rolled his eyes once again and looked back up at the king. His face showed exactly how he was feeling. The anger, fear, and sadness all wrapped in one. He looked insane next to the calm king, but no matter how hard he tried, he could never school his expressions like that. "Fine," he muttered through clenched teeth then he scoffed slightly and looked up at one of the guards. "Could we please go to the library?" he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. The guard looked down at Cyril and then back at the King.
(sorry for the wait!)
Osias barely concealed the eye roll, his nostrils flaring faintly with irritation. He had so much to deal with. This was not at all helpful, nor something he wanted to spend his time on. "Not right now." he said, with all the passive aggression of a parent far too tired of dealing with a child.
Cyril almost smiled at Osias' obvious annoyance. He knew he was acting like a child, but God, was he bored in that room, and if finding some entertainment meant also annoying his capture, then well, two birds one stone. "I'm probably going to be a nuisance no matter what you do to me," Cyril said, raising an eyebrow and looking back up at Osias. The guards were looking almost as annoyed as their king, and the one that seemed to be in charge was waiting on his instructions, but he just wanted to shut the prince up.
He exhaled slowly, shaking his head at Cyril and running his thumb over the scar on his cheek, pale eyes fixed on the young man on the ground. "Of course you are. How could I expect any different?" his voice was still low and thick with sarcasm. After a moment, he turned to the guard and spoke in Kevran, quick and low. The guard paused for a moment, then responded in the same tone. After that, they both looked down at Cyril. All were silent for a long moment, before Osias spoke. "You will go back to your chambers for now, Cyril." no title was used for Cyril. Only his name. "Later this week, there is to be an event. You will be making an appearance at it."
Cyril tried to strain his ears to hear what they were saying, but between the speed and volume, he didn't understand a single word. He tried to keep his eyes on the King, but he felt so small when they both turned to him in silence. He looked away wanting to be out of their gaze. The guards were already straightening and getting ready to bring him back to his chambers, but Cyril wasn't ready quite yet. "Wait, what event?" He tried but once again failed to conceal the emotions in his voice. He sounded almost desperate for some information, and his accent was even thicker from the stress.
He raised one eyebrow very faintly. "A ball. A celebration, of sorts. Do not worry about proper clothing. Someone will come to measure you and make garments." he alreayd had plans for how he would have Cyril dressed. Cyril would wear Kevra's colors. He would look groomed and presentable, but he would not look like a prince.
Cyril nodded, knowing he won't be getting much else out of him. The guards bowed to their King and then left with Cyril back to the room. Cyril was going willingly but was stuck in his head as they moved. Thinking about this ball. At least that will keep him busy for a while. He could work with that. He knew that Osias would never allow it, but he thought of what he would wear back home to an event like this. He was known for his taste in fashion and had designed many of his own outfits.
Osias watched as the guards led Cyril away, considering what to do now. He would have a tailor speak with Cyril about this. It was important, after all, that Cyril not look too much like the country he had come from. Osias would have him wear Kevran colors. Nothing else.
(Time skip? We good do like the day of or right before the ball, or I could have Cyril give the tailor some trouble)
Cyril was brought back to the room and sat on the bed. He laid back, and tears fell down his cheek as he finally allowed his emotions to overtake him. He stayed there for a while and felt a bit better after. When the usual servant, Willow, came with his evening meal, he kept conversing with her. He wanted to vent about the day's events, but he always treaded around topics like that, not wanting to offend her by bad-mouthing her King. No matter how annoying Cyril found him.
(idc, which would you prefer?)
Osias went back to paperwork, writing things down and reading through papers.
The day after the attempted library escape, Cyril was measured by a tailor. He came back two days later with 3 outfits, all in Kevra's colors. The fabrics made his stomach churn. He missed Sentan's soft blues and golden yellows that matched his skin. The sailor tried to hand one of the outfits to Cyril, who just scoffed and shook his head.
"I will not be paraded around in his colors," he said, stepping away from the tailor, who looked over at a guard. In his opinion, the tailor's outfits were awful but he could care less about what the outfit looked like at this point. He'd wear a potato sack before anything in Kevra's colors. He knew what that would represent, and he would not stand for it. One of the guards left, probably to report Cyril's newest tantrum to the King.
Kevra's colors were crimson and a deep ocean blue, along with black, and some gold. The main colors in Cyril's outfits wre not black, as Osias did not want to give the impression of Cyril being in mourning tones. They wre not ugly outfits, but they were certainly different from Sentan's normal styles.
Cyril did like the blues and the gold, but the crimson reminded him of blood. Overall he did not want to be seen in Kevra's colors. He knew it was silly, he had already been conquered and kept in Kevra for months, but he couldn't let himself give in. Even if he knew it would probably be the smart thing to do. He could possibly make things easier for his people if he cooperated. He knew the tactics that he could implement, but that would also mean making things easier for Osias. That he will never do.
The tailor watched Cyril for a long moment, silent as a grave, before they exhaled. "The king said that you either get dressed in one of these, or you go naked. Which would you prefer?" they replied, gesturing to the clothes. They were lovely, in soft, sumptuous fabrics. The only real issue with them was that they were in Kevra's colors.
Cyril bit the inside of his cheek and glared at the clothes for a long, silent moment. The king had to be bluffing. Cyril found that he had done that a lot lately. He felt the fabric of, in his opinion, the least offensive outfit between his fingers, and it did feel amazing. the style was certainly nothing like he was used to, but it wouldn't be that bad. It was just the colors and Cyril's pride getting in the way. "Can I speak to him before this ball?" He asked, mostly directed to the guard in the room rather than the tailor in front of him, who he did turn to next. "And fine, I'll allow it at least for the fitting."
The guard exhaled faintly, then stuck his head out, spoke to the other guard, then closed the door again. "He will see if his majesty has the time to speak with you." he said, tone clearly indicating that he doubted Osias would have the time or inclination to speak with Cyril about something so small and petty.
The tailor shook his head faintly. "Do you have a problem with the styling that I can fix?" he asked, arching an eyebrow and watching Cyril to see what the young man's response would be to this question.