╔═ ' 𝙑𝙊𝙔𝘼𝙂𝙀 °❈° 𝙈𝙄𝙇𝙆𝙔𝘼𝙈 ' ══╗

✦ - 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝗜: 𝙃𝙀𝙍𝙀𝘿𝙄𝙏𝘼𝙍𝙔

A/N: Heyyy im alive. I promise other chapters come out soon. English isn't my first language but I know CRK/CROB is a mainly eng demographic. Please enjoy <3

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Things are never as they seem.

Ancient ruins may appear worthless-- broken down materials, dust layering on like you shouldn't pay any mind or think into even looking in its direction;

Don't be fooled. There is always something to be unveiled-- walls, there is a story.

On a broken tower near the dunes mentioned, there is a stained glass window that depicts a mural: of a symbol surrounded by text-- clear and bold: as was intended. As for anything else that makes the eye: a blur, incomprehensible at times.

Some say it was a bird: others say it was a child. People say they see what they want, but needs and wants are different: cookies finding that they can agree with the other when it comes to the window, the making of shapes and different hues, and the results coming out was a tinted orange light to mask their violet skies.

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If you can distract yourself from it for long enough, you can see through:

A queen and prince: a woman who seemed to know it all and her child who seemed to know nothing. Cat and-- well, mouse. Opposites. The words lead dynamics: there is something eye-catching or unique about it there-- something to look out for, to change the tune and learn about; and here, there is nothing.

Mother and son.

One ruled with a gloved fist. Without hesitation or remorse, Kennebec could end a man and his family with her voice. Whether she listened or not: her decisions were made, not made well.

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The other was-- needless to say, a problem in her eyes. Closeted: veiled. A gem worth nothing more than a dime or whatever's in your pocket.

With their highness came a place to rein: a small kingdom-- passed down from marriage to marriage, which now: only two remain. Alone in the dining room: magenta-hazed light cast through the window in front of them.

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His head turned to the light, a thin, lime veil keeping the princes' eyes hidden: only a faint glint of his lashes came out. Purple-Yam didn't need to overdress: but dinner with his mother made it a requirement. "Keep your hair up." Or "Keep your attire down." No matter how much he protested against it, he would always get narrowed down into a corner: guilted or shamed for how he spoke. He never meant to yell at anyone, it wasn't his choice, but either way: he would end up pinned and forced to obey. With a sigh, Purple-Yam rubbed his eyes: having come home from an arena-- another thing he wasn't allowed to do.

"Child." The queen called, already knowing he had zoned out.

"...Sorry. Y' need somethin'?" He turned his head down from the ceiling, looking her in the eyes, bowing his head, not wanting to anger her again.

"For once, that is the case. If you'd listen to me." Here she goes again. It had been dinner for ten minutes, and her hourly speech was here: for him to be put on the spot and grilled like a roast, maybe even put outside to work in their blistering summers, where the sun may as well blind him. "You should know what I'm talking about,"

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"That stupid kingdom," He groaned, gritting his teeth and rolling his eyes to the side, trying his best to keep his voice low as he imitated her words to what he felt were near damned perfect.