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The young prince always wondered why the moonlight isn’t as warm as the sunlight, watching the bright ball of white hanging over a curtain of inky black, accompanied by long trailed rays of gentle light. Such a youthful mind, still undisclosed to most of the world from age and the sequesteredness of formalities, able to only think of explanations that would only make sense in storybooks.
Wearing nothing but cotton garments, the young prince wandered through the royal garden, bare feet tickled by freshly-trimmed grass. At the daytime this place is usually a lush green ocean of all sorts of botany, many well-trimmed bushes and trees adorned with a cacophony of colorful flowers. But at night, everything fell into shadow with the moon being your only source of light. As Jurard is part-dinosaur, he had no problems navigating his way in the darkness thanks to his inhuman genes. Sure he still yells and runs away during sudden blackouts, but this was at least planned. His small hands brush over a nearby shrub with golden flowers, quickly pulling back when he feels thorns. He didn’t want to go back to bed with injuries.
Tonight was another night little Jurard couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t because of a nightmare or anything this time, he just couldn’t sleep for some reason. Maybe it's because the air felt too warm that night. Maybe it’s because he still had energy left from playing with his friends the afternoon before. Maybe it’s because he already slept through princely study sessions the whole evening. Bored of simply twisting and tumbling on the small four-poster, Jurard, as he often does in these situations, decided to make his way into the royal gardens. It’s one of the few places in the castle where the guards aren’t always roaming around and bothering him to go back to his chambers. He’s next in line for the throne, why should he listen to what a bunch of guards say?
Yet it didn’t stop him from being cautious when making his way towards the garden, hiding behind thick curtains or antique furniture from any passersby as he roamed the large area. He’s done this enough times to path out the best routes towards the green lush of what he calls his backyard.
And there he was, wandering amongst the darkened botanical menagerie. Grass crunching underneath his feet, night air but a breeze against his chubby face and short red hair. Jurard never knew what to do here exactly. But his great imagination tended to do all the hard work for him as it always does whenever the young prince feels like it.
Tonight he sees himself as a protagonist from one of his favorite comics, where a group of strangers had to make it out of a large mysterious labyrinth filled with all sorts of oddities and the occasional monster chasing them down. He didn’t have anyone to banter with, nor were there monsters to outsmart so he went with the escaping a maze part. The young prince didn’t want to use the actual castle maze just in case that’ll take too long (or get lost for the whole night), so he settled for the cacophony of flower bushes somewhere in the middle of the big garden. Its large bushes almost tower over the child, just barely, but that was enough as a maze in the meantime.
He had no sense of time other than the orbiting moon above, but that didn’t matter. The young prince wanted to play until the tiredness returned to tuck him back to the comforts of his chambers. Like every night this happens.
“Haha! This must be the way!” his voice squeaked, pointing at a narrow opening between two bushes with a stubby finger. He imagined himself in the protagonist’s shoes, confident with his decision to escape. “I’m finally getting out of here!”
Jurard rushed out from the bushes, swiftly smelling the faint scent of sweet rose mallows and floral beetle peas as tiny twigs prickled his soft face, leaving nary a scratch. Soon his nostrils were hit with the cold night air, baring his sharp teeth while he exclaimed a victorious cheer until his legs got tangled in between the bushes. He fell with a thump and a mouthful of dirt.
“Uuugh, blergh!” The young prince groaned as he coughed up some blades of grass. “The outside world doesn’t taste very good,” he mumbled, wiping dirt off his face. His white cotton garments probably look incredibly filthy from all his dilly-dallying, but that was the maid’s problem tomorrow.
His sharp ears suddenly heard the snap of a branch. Jurard turned to the noise, wondering if it was an animal or something. But it couldn’t be. Most animals outside of those kept by his family or friends were warded off the gardens by a protective shielding spell in order to keep any pests out of the orchids or flowers. And all the royal pets were asleep. Curiosity and slight fear swirled in his head, a part of him wishes that he bought his fake sword. Jurard swiftly hid in between the bushes, crouching down to make himself more hidden from who or whatever it is.
Then he caught the distant sound of…something familiar. It took him a while to recognize it as the soft clopping sound of hooves on grass. The young prince’s curiosity grew, wondering why one of the royal steeds was out of its pen this late at night. His mind pondered all sorts of ideas from general negligence or that the beast simply wanted to roam around at night without worrying about its status nor the watchful eyes of aristocrats and their cohorts, no different from him.
Okay now I’m just projecting , Jurard thought as he peeked out of the leaves to get a better view. His sharp eyes tried to look up above the shrub and spotted a dark figure looming above. The prince knows what a horse looks like, but it wasn’t just the beast. Someone was riding it. The rider had the tell-tale glow of a floating lumiglobe, a trail of twinkles followed a soft-glowing sphere around the figure-not enough to reveal it but likely to light their path. He held his breath, body froze as the figure grew bigger, inching closer. The soft clopping noise grew nearer as the figure took a turn.
Jurard didn’t move one bit, his mind in a state of growing panic and curiosity. Was someone sent out to find him? It couldn’t be or else they’d be a lot quicker. A roaming guard? Possibly, but over the months of sneaking away here he never encountered one in the garden. Maybe it was some new regulation he didn’t know or tune out of his brain. A ghost? The palace is old. Whoever or whatever it was, it probably meant no good if they found him.
Soon, the noises were only a breath away from where he hid. Jurard reflectively covered his mouth as if it’ll do anything, retracting slightly from where he peeked. A long, gray hoof stepped into view, thumping loudly into the dirt. Another one followed closely, bringing forth its large body. His vision was obscured by spotted gray fur and muscly long legs, the tiny lumiglobe hovering around the beast upwards. But his focus was turned on a protruding boot, peeking over a fountain of thin dark cloth.
Jurard braved himself to slowly look up once more from where he hid, gasp muffled by his still closed mouth.
The lumiglobe hovered close towards the rider, illuminating long strands of dark red hair and pale delicate hands, dark nails rubbing slightly. The black fabric of the rider’s attire shimmered lightly, revealing intricate patterns among it. The light inched upwards, making the rider more and more visible. More and more of the figure was slowly revealed, the lumiglobe hovering gently at face level.
It was that of a woman. Pale skin contrasted smokey red lips, sharp eyes shining as the light grew closer. Like his they were blood-red akin to the most sought out rubies, but where the prince’s were smooth and rounded, hers glistened like cut jewelry on the most prestigious of crowns. And she wasn’t wearing hers, the lumiglobe inching closer to the side of her face.
Jurard’s mind was a whirlwind, her face not very visible from his leafy perspective. On one hand, it was only Queen Rexford, the prince’s dear mother, so there should be nothing to fear. But on the other hand, it was his mother. She never prohibited him from sneaking out here in the middle of the night specifically, but like every mother she probably wouldn’t be too happy to find him sneaking out here in the middle of the night.
What is she doing here , he wondered. A squeal almost escaped him when she turned her head in Jurard's general direction. Well, not exactly where he is but just the general position. He could see her stare wistfully beyond the garden, night breeze gently blowing a few strands of hair.
“Nak?”
The voice carried into the cold night like a hushed whisper, warmth pouring over like honey in such a crisp air. It managed to pull a tiny shriek from the young boy, promptly making him fall forward once more. Now his whole body is out of the bushes, thumping into dirt once more. He quickly looked up and saw the gray torso of a large horse and the figure looking down at him, blank face lit up by her lumiglobe.
“Mama!” He balked, “I…I was just…uh…” He could only think of small unbelievable excuses for the looming red eyes above him. The queen looked down at her young son, face blank. Jurard wasn’t very good at reading expressions, or at least if he’d upset someone or not, usually waiting for a yell or scowl.
Instead, his mother’s face softened. “Can you not sleep tonight, Ju?” Her voice was as gentle as it ever was. “Have you been having nightmares?”
“N-no…” Technically that's the truth. There were times where it was, but tonight wasn’t it.
“Then why are you out here then?”
“I…couldn’t sleep,” That was really the only thing he could say. He looked up to his mother, still atop her horse as it clopped in place. Jurard reflectively kicked the grass, swaying in place as the two locked their eyes. Her eyes softened, a tiny smile on her lips.
“Would you like to ride Sir Harvey?”
Jurard’s face lights up, forgetting the prior awkwardness, hopping up and down while holding his arms above his head. The queen smiled and without any effort bent to pick up her needy son. He giggled as he was lifted up into the air, eventually feeling the horse’s tough muscle on his bottom as his feet dangled against its rough yet well groomed fur. His mother patiently waited for him to comfortably adjust his seating, tiny arms snaking around her waist. She turned to find her son pressed on her back, looking up with a small cheeky grin. She returned it with her own.
Eventually, Sir Harvey began to prance once more, albeit slightly slower than before. Jurard leaned his cheek against the dark silken nightgown, comforted by its softness and her warmth. Half-lidded eyes gazed upon the garden, smiling now that he can now see beyond with this new height and the soft glow from the lumiglobe, able to find familiar landmarks such as the small orchard of golden cardaba trees and other South Elysian fruit trees as well as the wooden sign as the entrance for the castle’s maze where Jurard could’ve play out his fantasies, tall hedges visible by the horizon. One day, I’m gonna be so tall I will never get stuck in there again, the young prince thought as he dozed away, thinking about all the times he and his friends would get lost in there.
“Jurard” His mother called, snapping him out of his semi-sleepy daydream. “Do you always go out here when you can’t sleep?”
The young prince simply mumbled, pulling his face out of the comfort of warm silk. “Mmmm…” He thought hard. Jurard didn’t fancy himself a liar…towards his mother at least. He always believed he was just good at convincing people otherwise, which he believed is different from lying. But his mother seems to know him better than anyone to take his excuses at face value. What should I say?
“...Would you be mad?” he muttered, looking up at her. “You’re going to be the ruler of the Rexford family, Ju. A leader. Would a leader be afraid of that?”
For a while both of them didn’t say anything. Only Harvey’s breathing and clopping the only sound around them, bothered by the occasional breeze. The shining lumiglobe floated a bit closer to Jurard, reflectively making him swat it away.
The brief silence was broken when she sighed, steering the horse to the left. “If you’re having a nightmare, Jurard, you could always come to me dear,”
Jurard pouted. “Imma a big boy, mom,” he grouched. “Maybe when I was 5 sure, but I’m almost double…digits! I can’t run to my mama all the time…” For all of the young prince’s neediness, he doesn’t want to burden the hardworking queen for every inconvenience. “...A leader doesn’t do that!” At least my studies says so. His mother simply giggled.
“My, my. Since when has my son grown so quickly? And so considerate as well?” She looked back, slowing Harvey down. “Does that mean you can look for your missing toys and comics yourself? Should I stop giving you pocket money more than once a month? Or buy those special eggs you like so much when you want them?”
“No!” Jurard cried. “I still want those! My room is so big! I like money! And those eggs are tasty!” Even if I don’t know what's in them . He wailed and threw himself onto her back, making the queen turn back, putting her hands on his head. “I still want you mama…” red eyes looked up at her, glimmering in the moonlight.
“Of course, of course. I’m not going anywhere, your majesty…” she said in a semi-joking tone, gently stroking his red locks.
Jurard leaned in onto his mother’s touch, giggling. “I’m not old enough to be called that yet!”
“Weren’t you a king just yesterday?” she jest. Whenever the royal scholars wanted Jurard to behave, they often let him play “king” and order them around (or rather make it seem that way) during and after their studies. This usually goes on until the boy gets bored or tired.
“That was yesterday! It’s when I’m older I wanna be king for a looong time!” Jurard whined. “And...I wanna be king longer than dad, at least…” He hugged his mother closer, noticing her strokes becoming slower, her smile wistful. A small tree that they just passed rustled slightly in the breeze.
While such a heavy subject would perturb the comfort of their nightly stroll, they’ve talked about it enough to not feel too sorrowful anytime the king is brought up. Jurard has already been told that his father went into battle when he was still an egg, and only for the rest of his men to watch over his hatching. From the stories they told King Rexford was apparently a fiery leader, head-strong and always ready to take the first charge. The king’s memorial, while Jurard had only visited once, is filled with paintings, trophies, and all sorts of memorabilia of his triumph and success through his living years. All of them portray his dad as a strong man, ready for battle.
“Dad was a big adult, of course he’d be king for the rest of his life!” Jurard threw his arms to the side. “I’m still little. I wanna be a big adult first!”
“Well, your father was quite little too when he was still your age,” his mother said, smiling as she turned her head toward the path. He’s also heard some accounts from his mother, considering she married him and all, on how his old man was actually quite clumsy and shy in private as well as having a brazen sense of humor, saying jokes nobody would expect to come out of a prestigious king’s mouth. Jurard was still too young to pry more details off it, but he always had a small belief that the queen was similar-if he judges from the reaction of her acquaintances during parties. “Did you know that he used to fall off his horse every lesson for years?”
“Before he rode them like those paintings?” Jurard’s eyes widened, excited to hear another story about the personal life of the previous king. “Did the horses not like him at first?”
His mother chuckled lightly, steering her steed to the left just past a marble bird bath, its remaining water shining under the moon. “I’m not sure, but maybe that’s because they liked me better. They bucked and galloped till he tumbled off, and he’d end up chasing them over the training grounds himself…” she looked like she was about to say more. The prince didn’t bother. “So did they behave when he became king or something?”
The queen simply shook her head, stroking Sir Harvey’s rough mane. “Maybe. Perhaps they were bored of the rivalry. Perhaps your father became more assertive. Perhaps it's because they see me as his friend…”
“...a leader never turns his back on help…” Jurard suddenly muttered.
“Hm? What makes you say that all of a sudden?”
“...I-I don’t know!” he frowned slightly. “I just remembered learning about that during lessons today…” the prince scratched the back of his head, then looked up at his mother once more. “I mean…you probably helped him, right mama?”
From here, he could see the twitch on her red lips. He didn’t pry further, hugging his mother even tighter when a breeze suddenly hit him. His mind swirled over the talks about becoming king, a leader, the ruler of the Rexford name. Jurard only knew that these are very, very important roles. His young mind couldn’t properly comprehend what it truly means to grow up with those titles-and while having the guarantee makes him very happy about his future, there was also a bit of…pressure? Confusion? Maybe it's his teachers that made him feel that way over being born with such prestigious roles.
“Would you like to learn horse riding, dear?” She suddenly offered, breaking his train of thought. He didn’t notice that they were a lot further from the garden, the palace exterior visible.
“Can I? Like, right now?” He looked up, eyes widening in excitement.
“I know you always ask the guards to pick you up on their own afternoon stroll,” she said, “and maybe you’ll have better luck with the steed than your old father had…”
“Yeah! If Sir Harvey likes me, then they’ll probably like me too!” He didn’t hear the gray horse’s silent gruff. “If I can ride my own horse, can I go into training like the guards?”
His mother hummed. “Maybe when you’re a strong adult like them,” She gave him a toothy smile, which successfully entertained him.
“Yes!” He pumped his fists. “I’m going to be the best horse rider and…” Jurard stifled a yawn, “...lead my men into battle like a strong king!”
“Are you tired, Jurard?” His mother asked. Both of them could hear the sound of running water as they passed by a small fountain, a gentle stream pouring away like a tiny waterfall. The prince rubbed his eyes as he nuzzled into his mother, the sound of running water oddly comforting him. Eyes rapidly blinking as he stopped paying attention throughout the vast garden, getting darker despite the rising moonlight and lumiglobe trailing behind.
“...Ju?”
“...maybe…”
“You know..a leader never says maybe," She said softly, "So let me ask again...are you tired, dear?”
A tiny yawn finally escaped him, making his head fall forward against soft silk. “mmmm...yes…” He made a small smile as he felt his mother’s soft giggles. In his trance going in and out of consciousness, he didn’t notice that they were just by the veranda. He did notice Sir Harvey suddenly stopping and the previous warmth suddenly escaping him. Before he fell forward against the horse’s back, Jurard felt strong arms surrounding him once more, this time encasing him from the night air. Warmth returned stronger than ever now that his mother was carrying him inside the palace, feeling lips brushing on his forehead and whispers he couldn’t properly discern.
Jurard basked in the warmth of his beloved mother as he held on to her tighter, lulling his mind into dreamland once more. Heavy eyelids peeped from when he could still see the moon, its light pouring down into the world below spilling out into the palace, grateful that it wasn’t as warm as the sunlight.
🦖🦅***♾️💢
“After we pass the boulder, the sheriff said that we could only traverse by horseback from there,” Goldbullet looked beyond the cliffside of the canyon from the front window of his van. A ridge that steep was enough to make a grown man’s stomach drop if they didn't slip first. He glanced back to the rest of the team.
“You guys can ride horses right?”
“I steer corruption beasts all the time. I’m sure a horse wouldn’t be too hard to control,”
“How hard is it to ride one anyway? S’long as they don’t charge additional fees. We’re saving their asses after all,”
“How ‘bout you Jurard?”
The red haired man, The designated self-proclaimed leader of bounty hunter unit Armis, raised his eyebrow before pulling out a confident grin.
“Of course I could! Just so you know, I was actually taught horse riding growing up~”
“Wow, Jurard…I never knew you were a horse girl,”
“Shut the fuck up”