Dane Wyndhaven | 20 |Water Heir | M:
Fluff, golden fluff and then a sudden unceremonious thud followed by the wind being knocked out of his lungs and a sharp pain blooming in his chest. That was Dane's wakeup call. Some may say it's nice to wake up to your pet loving on you, and while Dane would agree, he wasn't too terribly appreciative of the bruise that was bound to form. If it hadn't of been for the weight of his golden retriever, Hudson, laying squarely on his chest, he would have sat bolt upright, instead Dane let out a gasp followed by a low groan. His bright blue eyes opened for a moment before shutting again as Dane reached up to pet Hudson's incredibly soft fur, he could feel the dog’s warm breath against his face and frantic tail-wagging against his leg. The prince's mind was still foggy with sleep as he layed there for a while, finding it slightly hard to breathe but managing. But the slobbery swipe of Hudson's tongue across Dane's cheek caused to jolt him from the disorienting haze of sleep, and he clumsily swatted at Hudson’s head.
Hudson merely responded with a jubilant bark before leaping off the bed, landing on the stone floor with a loud clack of claws. The bed creaked as Dane sat up with a groggy sigh, tousling his already messy raven hair until it stuck out at odd angles. The room was dimly lit, softened by the milky light filtering through a veil of haze outside the window. With a glance, he could tell the weather: a cool, cloudy spring morning.
That’s when the sinking realization hit him.
“...Oh no,” he muttered, the sound of people in the hallways finally filtering into his sleep clouded brain. If his thoughts were as slow as molasses before, they were racing now. He was late—hours late, by his standards. His responsibilities as a prince, as stifling as they were, demanded early mornings full of tedious preparation, meetings, and appearances. And today of all days, he was supposed to be alert, punctual. Some perfect prince he was. "Damn it Hudson." He cursed beneath his breath, rushing over to his wardrobe, "Why didn't you wake me up earlier?!" Hudson just wagged his tail and barked happily, trotting over to jump up on his unprepared dad, who stumbled further into the walk-in closet. He let out a soft grunt before scratching behind Hudson's ears.
Dane rubbed his face, trying to banish the last traces of sleep from his mind. He couldn't exactly pinpoint why he had been so exhausted recently, but deep down he knew it was everything. He heard the way the castle whispered, rumors of who he was circulating and rumors of his siblings and his powers. He knew it was the masquerade ball tonight, looming over his head like a storm. The thought made his stomach tighten uncomfortably, and Dane let his hands drop to his sides with a sigh. He knew what it meant. The formal meeting of heirs and suitors. A neutral setting, supposedly designed to ease the tension, but everyone knew better. It was a forced interaction—one that would carry a thousand unspoken pressures and expectations. Expectations that Dane had no desire to meet.
He didn't want this. He didn't want any of this.
The weight of it all, of being prince, felt especially heavy today. It was supposed to be a grand opportunity—a chance to welcome alliances, forge relationships—but to Dane, it was just another reminder of his gilded cage. He would have to smile, act the part, and play into their image of him: the perfect, charming prince, unburdened by his own insecurities.
But beneath all the layers of appearances, he was just Dane. A man who wished he could crawl back under the covers and forget the day existed. A man who wished he could slip away to the gardens, where the air was earthy and still, the only sounds coming from birdsong and Hudson bounding happily through the grass. A man who just wanted to go tend to his garlic, onions, and carrots without having to look over his shoulder and make sure no one was watching. A man who was tired of having to act like he was perfect.
Hudson whined, as though sensing Dane’s spiraling thoughts, and nudged his knee with his wet nose. Dane glanced down at the dog and smiled faintly, scratching behind his ears. “You’re right, you’re right. I can’t just sit here and sulk, can I?”
Reluctantly, Dane turned away from the wardrobe and began to pull himself together. He grabbed the closest article of clothing—a loose linen shirt—and slipped it over his head, yawning again as he padded over to a water basin to splash cold water on his face. The chill shocked him into a sharper alertness, though it did little to chase away the sense of dread coiling in his chest.
“Masquerade ball,” he mumbled to his reflection, staring at his reddened cheeks and tired eyes. “You’ll survive it. One night. Just one night. Then you can turn down everyone, and go back to normal life. Keep it one more day. I can do this."
But Dane wasn’t sure he believed that.
With Hudson now trailing at his heels like a devoted shadow, Dane began to dress more properly, deciding today called for something much too extravagant than his favorite outfits, something plain but presentable. It was too early for the heavy formality of a prince’s garb—he wasn’t ready for that but did he have a choice?
As he laced up his boots and ran a hand through his still-wild hair, he stole a glance at Hudson, who stared back expectantly, tail thumping against the floor. “Fine, let’s get this over with,” Dane said with an exaggerated sigh, though the faintest smirk tugged at his lips. “But if anyone gives me grief about being late, I’m blaming you.”
Hudson barked in agreement, and together they stepped out into the cool, stone halls of the castle, where the quiet murmur of voices and the shuffle of handmaidens preparing for the day echoed faintly around him. Whatever the day had in store, Dane would face it, however begrudgingly. At the very least, he had Hudson by his side—and for now, that was enough.
Spring 
Day 
