The One You Feed × Brandrew AU

XI

-Brandon's POV-

The winter was bitter cold. There were no snowflakes, only blizzards and most of the kingdom's crops being covered in frost. It was probably the worst season for us so far.

Though the day had been cold, the nights were more lenient. The temperature rose enough to remove a single layer of clothing, but torches still had to be lit. Hayden, Brent and I all huddled around the single torch in our room, trying to save ourselves from freezing to death.

"I hate winter," I had groaned, taking a bite from the steak I was given. Fresh meat was the only good thing about the season. "Don't we all?" Brent reminded me. For some reason, he and Hayden had gotten less food than I did.

That night was freezing, and easily the worst of the month. I was happy that was over. It was the morning now, and the sun was shining so bright that snow began melting from the ground. Unfortunately, that didn't mark the end of the cold. I had to enjoy this while I could.

We were all gathered in the throne room. It was easily the warmest and roomiest part of the castle. Us and the rest of the workers all waited patiently for the king, who was already late, yet it had been an hour since sunrise. Guards were speechless, and we all were too.

"Maybe he died," one of the cooks whispered to Hayden, who laughed. If the king died, everyone would certainly enjoy it.

Before the talking could pick up, the king burst into the room, looking flustered. We all sat and watched as he paced the room, then left down the hall again. "What's with him?" Brent said to me. I shrugged, as none of us had ever seen him like this before.

It must have been a few more minutes before the king returned, appearing at ease. He climbed onto his throne, and slumped down. "I don't care if you're here or not, just do something," he growled. It was the first time he said that, too. He was usually such a perfectionist when it came to attendance and getting the job done. 

Cooks filed into the back room, medics shuffled down the hall, and workers scattered anywhere they could. Instinctively, I grabbed the nearest broom and swept around aimlessly. I wasn't even sweeping anything. Hayden and Brent did the same.

The king didn't care to notice us, and only disappeared back into the hall. "What on earth is wrong with him?" I said to myself, though my friends had heard. Brent chuckled softly. "Everything," he whispered, careful not to alert the king back into the room.

For once, I agreed.

•••

That night's dinner was the worst I'd ever had. We were given a bowl of rancid rice and cold, spoiled broth. I could hardly swallow it down. Hayden and Brent simply tossed the meal out the window, refusing the eat the disgusting dish. Winter must have been at its peak.

"Last night we get the leftovers of warm, roasted turkey, and we get this tonight?" Brent had said before pouring the broth out of the window.

I, too, was upset at that point. I hadn't entered my life to be treated like a prisoner, and I certainly wouldn't live this way. I thought it all through. I was tired of being treated as a slave, having my friends mistreated, provided with such low quality clothes that I was almost freezing, and given just enough food to live on. The rage ran to my head.

"I'm gonna go tell him to give us different food," Hayden growled, standing up from his cot. His mouth was curved onto a scowl. I sprung up from my own bed. "I'll do it," I volunteered, "if you do it, you'll be headless by the end of the night."

I didn't give either of them time to protest, before I shoved the door open and darted into the hall. "Brandon!" Brent called from the room. He didn't say anything else. I couldn't believe I was about to say this.

Tears were filling my eyes by the time I reached the throne room. What was I even thinking? I was going to be killed for this. All the hatred I had held inside for two years came forward, replacing the sensation of fear. The thing that scared me the most, was how sudden this mood came to me.

I stomped into the throne room. By this time, a tear was finding its way down my face. I stood in front of King Andrew, sitting on his throne, watching in curiousity. "What is it?" He said angrily. Yet, my anger outdid his. I was becoming my friends.

"You," I growled. "You've caused every problem in my life. You took me from my home. You hurt the only friends I have. You don't treat me like a person." I spit out my words in a violent rhythm.

Guards started marching straight for me, and the king held up his palm, and they stopped. "You don't think I know that?" He said, in almost a gentle tone. It was as if our roles were reversed. "What do you wanna hear from me?" He questioned.

I didn't think I'd get that far without being pulled away. "An apology," I choked out, tears spilling out. The king smiled manicially, as if he were entertained. "For everything." King Andrew slanted his eyes, and laughed. I wasn't getting anywhere with this.

"Go back to bed, Brandon," he chuckled, "before I throw you in a cell."

The fear washed away. I really was turning out like Hayden and Brent. Maybe the two of them would be proud of me.

I put on foot forward, glared, and clenched my fists. "Make me."

•••

Needless to say, I spent that night in the dungeon. I slept on cold hay and ended up covered in dirt, but at least I said what I needed to.

When morning came, a small amount of sun spilled through a hole in the wall. It made me miss my freedom, living outside of Laine, and being with my family. At least I still had memories. He couldn't take that from me.

"Done day dreaming?" A voice said. I turned towards the door, only to find it open, and see the king standing there. "I guess," I groaned, gripping my thigh anxiously.

He walked towards me, and I avoided any eye contact. I knew he hated that. Before I could spit out some rude comment, the king's fingers gathered on the side of my face, cupping my cheek. He pushed my face so that I'd look at him.

"I didn't think you had that much courage in you," King Andrew laughed. He used his other hand to pull me up and off of the ground. "It doesn't come out a lot," I muttered. The king removed his hand, but caressed my face in doing so.

"I can tell it doesn't," he said. His voice was too monotone to tell what emotion he felt. His hand wrapped around my wrist, and he pulled me out of the cell. "And you know what?"

I sighed loudly, watching in boredom as he pulled me down the halls and into the garden. "What?" I finally said. It must have taken a few minutes for me to respond.

King Andrew froze, then turned back to me and held both of my hands. It was the strangest thing that he'd done so far. He leaned in, pulling me into a hug. "Well," he whispered.

"I'm sorry."