"Once upon a time, there was a brother and sister-"

"Called Hansel and Gretel, who killed a witch, their story ends on page 5." Roman interrupted. "We've been over this." He ran a hand through his hair. "Can we do anything else but study History?"

Logan sighed. "Your Highness, what would you suggest we do? You still need to learn your histories."

"I've learnt my histories over ten times." Roman said, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. "I've memorised how many pages are in that book from the sound of them! You don't need to read them to me anymore, I'm not a child."

"You're certainly acting like one." Logan thought before pushing the thought away. Prince Roman had been babied his whole life, of course he was going to act like a bit of a brat.

"How else would you propose you learn your histories, then?" He asked, pushing his glasses up his nose. Roman turned his head to glare at Logan.

"We have braille now, Logan." He said slowly. "I can read on my own." Roman had been born with a film over his eyes, obscuring the colour and most of his sight.

"Yes, I'm not denying that, your Highness. But your father specifically insisted that you keep learning your histories through auditory memory."

"Why?" Roman asked. Though he'd asked this question many times before in History, he loved hearing the veiled annoyance in Logan's voice. It showed he'd annoyed the unannoyable Logan and that was always fun.

"Because you wouldn't read them, your Highness." Logan said, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. "You'd go and read your silly fairy tales about The Tyrant Henry 12th or whatever you read when you're bored."

"It's The Tyrant Henry 8th and I swear I'd read my histories! Eventually..." Roman said. Logan bit back another sigh. Prince Roman really was trying sometimes.

"Hello dear brother of mine!" Announced the return of Prince Remus. "Logan." He said, acknowledging the tutor.

"Your Highness." Logan closed the book with a loud snap. "Very well, your Highness. If you insist on not listening to your histories, my work is done for the day." He got up and swept out of the room, shooting a scathing glare at Remus as he passed.

"How are you today, Ro?" Remus asked in a boisterous voice. "Languishing alone in a gold and red room that you can barely see." Roman didn't answer. Instead he crossed his arms and turned his head away from the green and black shape of his brother. "Not answering? Well, my day has been wonderful so far. The real world really is such fun."

"Don't tease, Re." Roman muttered, sitting up properly. "It's not funny."

"For me it's hilarious." Remus said, over-pronouncing the last word. He threw himself down on a chair and crossed his legs. "Ten, nine, eight, seven," he counted down in his head, "six, five, four-"

"What's the village like today?" Roman asked quietly. As much as he pretended to hate him, Remus was his only connection to the outside world that he could trust not to tell his parents.

"Wonderful." Remus said. "It was so busy. It's market day today, you see, and there's loads of stalls all over. And Rose is still hollering father's proclamations at the top of her lungs. Not actually that many today... Anyway, um, everyone in the village comes out to buy and sell their crap on Mondays and it's just buzzing."

Roman sat up and leaned forward a little, trying to build an image in his mind from what Remus was saying. "I actually got there really early, when the people were setting up for the day. And the sun turned absolutely everything golden. The tops of the houses, the market stalls, the faces of the people working there, everything. The blue and gold kinda seeped into the sky and then night was over and it was early morning."

"Did it rain?" Roman asked excitedly. He loved the rain, the way it sounded and smelt. Remus shook his head.

"No. There weren't enough clouds. It was really sunny, though, really hot. And there was this one guy-"

"I don't need to hear about people, Re, I need to hear about the whole picture." Roman interrupted.

Remus sighed. "Fine. Would've thought he'd be your type but anyway-"

"Re, I don't have a type." Roman said. He gestured to his eyes. "Can't see shit, remember?"

"Okay, fine, I'll move on from the guy. Um, there were people selling all these different pieces of lace. And," Remus managed to extract a piece of material from the jumbled bunch in his satchel, "I got you one." He handed it to Roman. "It's a little piece of really pale pink lace the girl swore was off a noblewoman's dress."

Roman ran the piece of lace through his fingers, feeling every line, knot and detail of it. A small smile graced his face as he bent his head to better 'see' the piece of lace.

"Thank you, Re." He mumbled. Remus shrugged.

"No problem. I like making my little bro happy." Remus patted Roman on the head hard before jumping up and leaving the room.

"Hey, I'm an hour older than you!" Roman yelled after him as he heard Remus' footsteps retreat. He rolled his eyes and went back to his piece of lace, running his fingers over it again and again.

This was good, right? This was... this was good, right?
Bye,
Blaize