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The night in the kingdom was a peaceful one. The sky was clear, and the view before them was something that could rarely be seen. The kingdom of Darkheart had always been known for its mist at any hour of the day or night, making it nearly impossible to have a decent view, especially during the nighttime.
So being able to look up at the night sky and watch the stars shimmer from above was a sort of gift, especially for Prince Rocket.
In the eyes of the royal court, Rocket was nothing more than a spoiled prince who failed to understand the burden resting on his shoulders as heir to the crown, and everything that came with it. Though it was worth mentioning that he only carried the title as an annoying reminder that he was Darkheart's son. He held no real responsibilities besides looking handsome and well-mannered in front of the rest of the kingdom. Behind closed doors, however, he would shoot the royal court sideways glances, showed no respect for etiquette, and even less for the king.
His outbursts were rarely meant to hurt anyone. His temper was directed solely at the royal court, and his harsh words were aimed at the king of the realm, but he never crossed the line into physical aggression. His behavior had led those within the palace walls to call him many things, especially whenever he hurled insults at the marquesses and the marshal.
Why show any respect to the "crown prince" inside the castle when he was spoiled rotten? The king didn't even flinch at the prince's insults, so why should the court have to put up with his attitude?
The court's words and complaints were spoken only behind closed doors within the palace. They had a reputation to maintain in the eyes of the kingdom, the people, and the rest of their Swords.
The stars were truly beautiful. Who would have thought they looked even more breathtaking at midnight?
Rocket sat on the edge of the window in his room, both legs dangling outside while his left hand rested against his side, a shiver running down his spine at the harsh reminder of the absence of his right arm.
The memory was both bitter and hazy at the same time, but he managed to push it to the back of his mind as his gaze settled on the millions of stars decorating the night sky.
He could recognize some of the constellations from the books he had read in the library some time ago, so his night became a little more entertaining as he tried to find certain constellations.
The hours passed. The stars shifted from their places, and the night's breeze grew colder and colder. It was the sudden chill that made Rocket realize just how late it had gotten, and that he needed to go to bed soon, whether he wanted to or not.
"Darkheart will kill me if I wake up late." He had to remind himself. Although he wasn't afraid of the old deity, that didn't change the fact that Darkheart could overload him with stupid chores or horribly strenuous training. He was already on bad terms with him, and Rocket didn't want to add more fuel to the fire.
He forced his legs off the windowsill and made his way to his bed, ignoring the mess that occupied his room—a mess he always refused to let any servant clean.
He could only hope that his great and magnificent king would be merciful to him in the morning, or simply find himself too busy with his absurd duties as ruler. The royal court was already a huge pain in the ass, and having to deal with the deity on top of that would simply be too much.