Writers Jam

There is a letter in his room. He first noticed it when he stepped in, back aching from a drawn-out meeting with the ministers. The ivory of the envelope, stuck halfway between red carpet and wood floor. Someone had haphazardly shoved it under his door. He noticed it, because it wasn't there when he left this morning.

He steps around the letter.

He undoes his cufflinks and places them on his desk. There are many envelopes on his desk, filled with important letters from important people (yet none as important as the one on the floor-). There are many crumpled pieces of paper, ink-blotted and scrawled in a hand that was not his.

He loosens his tie and drapes it over his chair, the gaudy thing a gold and purple that clashes with his skin, his hair, his eyes. There are three more ties draped over his chair and another one on his bed (the last one is a shimmering sort of copper that he almost put on today). The bed was still unmade. He waits, for a fond flick to his ear, chiding him for the mess in his room. How "the soft crown prince" should know how to straighten his sheets (it was never that much of a mess, only when-) The flick never comes, and he steps out through the door, over the letter.

There are smiles and polite nods from passing staff (but no rough bump to his shoulder, no tug on his hair, no touch to his side, no tender smile- nothing- no one.) He feels a ghost by his shoulder, cold where it should've been warm. He sees copper hair in the edge of his vision and half-turns– no, it would be a fool's errand. He wanders for the rest of the evening, watching servants bustle about, preparing for the coming wedding. He sees some of their eyes drift to the spot by his side and dart away. He wonders how many of them knew; what they had (it was supposed to be a secret after all, but the crown prince had never smiled more when he was around).

Now he sits, smiling at another man next to him. There is lavish food and lavish attention. There is a too-large diamond on a too-small ring on his hand. There are golden eyes watching him from across the banquet hall. There is a choice he made that tears at his heart. There is a letter in his room, that he does not read, for their ways had already parted.