HIS ATLANTEAN PRINCESS

CHAPTER 8* NO PART OF THE THRONE*

“You called for me.”

Tueur says, stepping into his father’s private room and waving off the steward, who stood by the right end corner of his father’s bedchambers, and the steward bows politely before exiting the room without making a sound.

“If my memory serves me right Sacha, I sent you on a mission.”

Tueur rolled his eyes at his father’s question, knowing how implementing and overly dramatic the old man gets over trivial things.

“Yes.”

“Might I presume there is a good reason, why you didn’t feel the need to report the status of your mission to me at your arrival? And lets not forget how you should’ve returned two days ago. I hope you have honest reasons as to your delay.”

Tueur faced palmed, mentally knowing what turns the discussion would take with his self-absorbed father, who aims for control over everything around him.

“I had things to take care of in Saturns-Star, I di--.”

“The human city?”

The father cut him off and Tueur nods, hiding his displeasure in his father interruption his sentence.

“Go ahead.”

“The target was in Saturns-City at the time so there was no need for me to wait until they got back to their abode. Moreso, I didn’t think it was necessary to report the status of the mission to you, knowing you already saw the news.”

“Hand me my mantle.”

Tueur father instructs, stretching his hands through the white drapes of the canopy over his bedchambers, and Tueur walks over the stand holding the mantle, handling it over the father who wears it and steps out of his bedchambers into the open space of the room.

“Seeing the news doesn’t give me an affirmation that you got the job done Sacha. It might have been a natural cause or someone else who got them before you. Hearing a status report tells me you carried out the job well and I deliver the news to who needs to hear it. Now remind me, how many times do we have to go over this?”

Tueur’s father asks, walking over to the recliner and he takes a sit gesturing for Tueur to pour him a glass.

“I would come to you eventually, you know that, father. I don’t understand why you feel the need to go over this.”

“In getting jobs done, I am less your father and more your king who gave you order that you had to follow. I’ll let this slide because I understand you needed to welcome your little sister. Next time you have personal business to south out in the human city, do it whilst you are not on a mission. I don’t care what you do with the humans anyway, but I won’t tolerate your shenanigans impeding my business. Understand?”

Tueur’s father states and the son nods.

“Yes, Your Eminence pardon my impudence.”

Tueur says, bowing curtly, even if it was to his distaste. He still had to pretend he was at least sorry to prevent the man from continuing with his rambles.

“Although I am disheartened that you belittle my abilities. I am called Tueur for a reason, shouldn’t have faith in me at the very least. Given the worth of my name in the kingdom.”

Tueur says his mind, despite knowing he might get reprimanded by his father for speaking up.

“You do seem to forget, I made that name what it is today. And yes, you’re not called Killer for no reason. I have more faith in the name Tueur than I do in you Sacha. You often derail from the true meaning of that name. Which leads to my doubts on most occasion, because I can’t really tell if the great killer Tueur got the job done perfectly or Sacha chooses that moment as the perfect time to mess up as usual.”

Although he knows his father to be mostly grating with his words, Tueur wouldn’t deny that it hurt hearing his father speaking so low of him.

“You and I know that’s not true, but I would leave you to think however you want of me. Bringing me down with words really won’t do much to make be better or worse, anyway.”

Tueur responds and his father scoffs.

“That aside, I called you here for a different reason. The clan had a meeting and there would be another meeting in a few days with the elders from the primeval families.”

Tueur’s brows furrows as he tilts his head in confusion.

“What does that have to do with me? I don’t belong in the council neither am I an elder.”

His father grunts, shaking his head as he takes a sip from his cup.

“I didn’t mention you being a part of the council. The meeting held was for a reason that has to do with you being my heir. I am ageing not fast but given out kind the time is drawing near for me to vacate the throne. That’s where you set in as my first-born son and prince.”

Tueur already has his head mentally shaking in disagreement at his father’s word.

“I still don’t understand how any of these concern me. Elaborate further what this has to do with me being your firstborn. Is that a bad thing?”

“You act like you’re ignorant of what I’m driving at. When will you present your krovnaya svyaz [blood link]?”

“What does my blood link have to do with you vacating the throne?”

Tueur’s confusion was apparent as daylight, and his father was finding it slightly annoying.

“To become the next king, you need to begin and complete the affinity ritual with your blood link. The earlier you bring whoever she is, the better for us both.”

Tueur’s frown deepened at his father’s words, and this time he didn’t hide his disinterest with the way he shook his head.

“Sorry to disappoint you, father, but I have no plans for now nor in the future to find my blood-link. I do not wish to be tied down to anyone for the rest of my life, which might end up being miserable.”

Tueur says, and the king drops the ceramic cup on the wooden stool with an angry thud, rising on his feet in his full glory, towering over his son with a few inches.

“This is not up for debate Sacha, I do not care what you do with her after the affinity ceremony and you’re crowned king. Kill or toss her away it won’t be any concern to me anymore, but there is great importance to you finding her and bringing her to the kingdom to claim the throne.”

Tueur’s father says, almost yelling and Tueur chuckle finding his father’s sudden anger funny.

“It’s funny how you keep saying her, need I remind you, I fvck both male and female, so there is the possibility that my blood-link might be male not that I care, anyway. Truly the topic isn’t up for debate father, as I stated earlier I have not the desire to fine whoever they are and even if I do, I’ll happily toss them away, while on that I have no desire to succeed you as king, father. I never wanted the responsibility of ruling this kingdom. I don’t know why you must think I would want to succeed you. “

Tueur says and his father snarls lowly at him.

“You are my first-born son. Artemis forbid you bring shame to this family by abdicating your duties to the throne when needed. And not wanting to find your blood-link? It is tradition Sacha, I do not care what your desires are. How ridiculous.”

The king bellows, and Tueur nods his head.

“Exactly, it is ridiculous that you would want to force responsibilities on me, father. I do not wish to be king, do not want the throne, nor sit in a boring meeting with those wrinkling elders. I want no part of it.”

Tueur says, meeting the gaze of his father.

“I have carried the responsibilities of this kingdom like our fore-fathers did. Over my dead body, I let the throne pass to one who is not an offspring of D’ablo.”

“Father, no one asked you to shoulder the responsibilities of this kingdom. You chose that yourself. Need I remind you that this kingdom has a crowned prince who is heir apparent to the throne. If you are tired of being king, give it up and the crown prince take over.”

Tueur says, already tired of the entire conversation as his father snarled, nails sharpened and eyes changing at his son’s statement.

“Over my dead body will he become king. His father stole the throne from me once. I would not allow his son to steal it from us again.”

Tueur sighed at his father display of hatred.

“From you, not US. I want no part of the throne. Perhaps you need a reminder that he is also a D’ablo direct heir to the throne, not your nor I. Do not bring me into whatever childhood feud you had with his father. “

Tueur says, watching as his father’s eyes filled with bitterness and he sighed, aching to get done with the conversation already.

“He would not sit on that throne Sacha. You are my son and you do whatever I says and what it takes to continue my legacy.”

Already tired of the back and forth, Tueur nod.

“Suite yourself father, if you’ll excuse me, I have a deadline to meet.”

With that he bows respectfully, exiting his father’s room.

“If you want your head in place, don’t go to him until he is calm.”

Tueur says to the Steward standing a few feet away from the chambers to give the royal privacy and the steward nods in appreciation, thanking his luck as Tueur walked away.

***

“My prince.”

The bearer, awaiting in Tueur’s chambers, greet immediately he steps inside not noting his foul mood o

“I told you to clean yourself and wait for me. Is there a reason you are still in your undergarment?”

Tueur asks, eyeing the bearer dangerously, and the boy quivered in his boots.

“Forgive me negligence, my prince. I do not know what to do.”

The bearer says and Tueur face palm, seeing he might have chosen an inexperienced bearer to grace his bed, or there is the possibility of the boy pretending so he could get away.

“Find your way to the bathroom. There is enough cleaning materials there for you to use. Clean yourself in and out. If you want your head attached to your neck for days to come, I advise you to get rid of those filthy undergarments before stepping out. You do know I mean right?”

Tueur asks and the young bearer nods shakingly, fear gripping him as the literal meaning of Tueur’s instruction dawned on him.

The bearer dragged his legs to the bathroom, fearing what is to come.

All his time working in the castle, the young bearer has always tried his best to be invincible, because getting notice by any of the royals doesn’t always end well.

He cursed himself for choosing duties in the King’s solar. If he hadn’t, the head bearer wouldn’t have sent him on an errand to prince Tueur, and he wouldn’t have got himself in this current mess.

The bearer knows all too well where this leads, he’s never had to experience it before and he’s always prayed he wouldn’t fall pray for the prince.

And he knows telling the prince he is a naïve virgin won’t save him, either. Serving in the D’ablo’s castle always comes with a price at some point.

Briar didn’t know he would have to pay him today, especially if wants his head in place he knew he has no choice but to do Tueur’s bidding.

Else the prince would kill and no one in the castle would bother to hold him accountable.

Tueur cursed as his mood dampens more while thinking back to his conversation with his father. He doesn’t want a blood-link, neither does he desire to become king.

Knowing his father, Tueur knows, what he wants doesn’t really matter to the man, and would stop at nothing to see Tueur become king if he sets his mind to it.

“I need to find away out of his before he holds something against me and makes me his pawn.”

Tueur says, groaning loud in annoyance as he barked for the bearer to hurry, he needed to relieve the stress weighing on his shoulder before he thinks of a way out of his father’s claws.