Virion did not like being the failed prince. He adored it.

Even as a childling, he’d known that he wasn’t meant for a throne, even if he did look absolutely stunning on one. The simple truth of those born to royalty was that while Ythene designed a heroic few to fill the historical accounts with testaments of their glory, others were only moulded to be present and look pretty whilst doing so.

Virion was the latter. He was not meant to rule, but he was more than happy to fulfil his role as a gorgeous object. To be lavished, adorned and celebrated as Ythene’s most precious jewel. And that subject wasn’t a matter for idle discussion; it was a fact.

Virion Kethlana was the epitome of beauty. He was crafted perfection, and denying such a thing only exposed a pitiful amount of covetousness in one’s self. Though even Virion could admit that if he weren’t born as himself, Ythene forbid it, he too would be jealous.

That being said, even as breathtaking as he was naturally, there was an effort to be made to achieve the degree of perfection which he presented to the realm upon each dawning morrow. Efforts like allocating a hirt each evening to maintaining the sheen within his hair, and rising when the servants did to determine his wardrobe for the day.

“No.”

Goren, his squire, quickly tore the offensive robe away from Virion’s disapproving gaze, discarding it with shaky hands that soon presented an open silk shawl adorned with gems along its sleeves.

Virion scowled at the less-than-satisfactory garment, insulted that Goren would suggest such a thing.

“Are you ill today, Goren?” He asked with honest curiosity. “Has some unknown ailment distorted your wits?”

“No, your grace,” Goren replied, dropping the shawl as if it were ablaze. “Forgive me.”

Virion only hummed, leaving Goren to scour today’s selection that would mystify all who had the privilege to lay eyes upon the first prince, and surveyed the morning’s pickings instead.

As the first to wake, Virion always had the delight of receiving the best of the new day’s stock. The platter was filled with his favourites, wetted greens, willow berries and sweet plum drops, but best of all, cuts of ous were there as well, which showed how far the servants had ventured today on his behalf.

Virion found himself smiling while he filled his mouth with the succulent treat, privately reminding himself to gift the hunters with new boots for their trouble before he returned his gaze to Goren.

The squire stood as stiff as ancient bark, presenting a black crested, chaun jewelled necklace, and the ous almost slipped from Virion’s parted lips.

Chaun was rare, rarer still when refined, and yet there it waited, rich with tones of lavender and obsidian that made Virion’s heart gallop.

“Bring it here,” he demanded, hands outstretched and aching to get a feel of it.

The instant the hefty stones warmed his palms, all the air in his body was cast out.

Virion stared at the precious marvel, and for a moment, there was nothing but him and the necklace– beauty meeting beauty, a fit like no other.

A jol later, Virion knew precisely what he’d be wearing for the day. The image was already presented in his mind, and it was glorious.

“Goren, ready the baths, we have work to do.”

Some time later, when the suns were at their peak and Virion stared at his image, he found himself to be just as he’d imagined — glorious.

No callings required him to leave the castle today, but Virion had still selected a boot with a pointed tip and a silvered moon design that ran up the length of it, following the path of his black breeches. Paired with a finely made blouse with long, puffed sleeves, he might’ve looked plain if not for the heavy-tailed, finely embroidered purple shawl that matched the rich chaun gem resting atop his chest.

His long, black hair lay perfectly on his shoulders, curled and oiled to shine under the Ythene’s light, His lashes were brushed and stroked with ink to make his purple pupils seem all the more inviting.

“Perfection,” Goren mused, and Virion nodded his agreement. He looked perfect.

Ready for the day, Virion left his chambers in the highest spirits that only grew when he reached the castle’s rivers. The mountain’s waters moved luxuriously through the open canal that ran the length of the castle, a beautiful, busy hotspot where Virion shone brightest.

As he walked, chin tilted high, shawl draped behind him, Virion basked in the buzz that followed after him as the castle’s residents tracked him, all trying to catch a glimpse of what he wore today that would end up steering fashions within the castle for the next week.

It was simply how things worked, how the same people who claimed he yearned for attention and was far too eccentric for a prince, would follow in his steps.

It had always been like that, but luckily, Virion had learned from a very early age that there was no pleasing elves once your veins carried royal blood. It was a paradox, you see.
On the one hand, it was imperative that you looked the part, but take it too far, and you were making a mockery of one’s self and others,. Too little, and you weren’t taking your station seriously enough.

Of course, there was a middle ground, Virion just couldn’t be bothered to find it. Living by rules that made others happy at the expense of himself would literally be lunacy.

“Virion!”

Virion tried not to wince at the sound of Ciradyl’s stern voice.

As the eldest in his brood, Virion knew he shouldn’t fear his younger sister, but Ciradyl always brought some task or another when she sought him out, and oh, how Virion loathed exerting himself.

The eldest sister of the Kethlana brood was the opposite. Ciradyl had always been deeply rooted in structure, which made her little fun, but as of late, she’d been far more pliable to joining him on his adventures off Colony. But Virion knew that voice, and there was no promise of fun in that sharp tone.

Turning on his heels, Virion adorned a smile for his golden-haired sister that she did not return while she marched towards him. She couldn’t, what with her gaze down on her reading tablet that likely was littered with tasks for her day.

“Mother calls for you,” she reported while she walked straight past him without even a glimpse. “Be careful, brother, she carries a mood.”

Glass heels clicking in her wake, Ciradyl carried on as if she hadn’t completely sidetracked his day.

Sighing to himself, Virion wondered what the Queen Mother could possibly want with him but thought it best not to prolong the inevitable. His mother was not nearly as patient as his wona, and if her spirits were ruffled, keeping her waiting would only make it worse.

Calling on the life of the suns’ morning light, Virion gathered its pulse into his inner being and used the rush of energy to propel his soul and body to where his mother waited. When he arrived, he wasn’t surprised to find himself deposited just beyond the threshold of his mothers’ private dining room, where his parentage sat picking from a generous spread.

“Virion!”

The smile his wona greeted him with was one touched by Ythene herself.

As always, Virion was quick to greet his wona with a kiss on her temple before he sank into her embrace. Many thought Virion to be coddled too greatly, but he hardly cared; his wona loved him greatly, and he loved her; what use was pretending otherwise.

“This is a treasure,” she commented while passing his fingers over the chaun gem. “Would you ever care to share?”

Virion drew her hand for a kiss, “My love has its limits, even for you.”

His wona laughed sweetly as he settled into the seat beside her, her light a glowing outward thing that completely opposed that of her partner.

Virion looked upon his queen mother and smiled, “I was surprised to receive your call. I thought the pair of you were heading to Kodo today.”

Wona’s golden eyes flashed with delight at the mention of her home, “We are, shortly, in fact! We’re only enjoying a meal before we go.”

“In that case, I wish you would’ve called for me earlier,” Virion replied mournfully. “ I’ve already eaten.”

The Queen-Mother spoke up then, her eyes kind where her tone was not, “That is no problem, for I didn’t summon you for that purpose, Virion.”

Something in the centre of Virion’s chest flickered at the very centre of him, like a warning call, but he brushed it away. Though when his wona took his hands within her delicate ones, and those warning bells sounded once more, he thought to head them.

Virion had always been quite tactile with his wona, so the embrace was not strange, but the touch felt tighter at present, as if she were holding onto something fragile with the hopes of preserving it before it broke.

Virion passed a measured glance between his mothers, “For what matter did you summon me then?”

This time, he was confident that something was amiss because his mother spared an apologetic look to his wona before she faced him again, “There is to be a Great Assembly tomorrow.”

Virion couldn’t hide his grimace, “Forgive my tongue, but that sounds rather horrific.”

Assemblies in general were no fun; they involved gathering representatives in the area or the castle for discussions for several days to resolve one issue or another. Great Assemblies meant the same thing, but on a much larger scale, with representatives from all the clans on Colony.

By the grace of Ythene, Virion had never been saddled with such a thing, but he still felt a great deal of pity for his brother, Aiasthlyn, who was already snowed with so much as crown prince and protector of the entire realm.

“Who summoned it?”

“The dragons,” Mother answered with an unease that she didn’t bother to hide.

Great Assemblies were rare, rarer still when it was called by the most solitary creatures in all the realms. It would have to be a rather serious matter, in which case, the whole ordeal sounded even more unappealing.

“Their chieftain has made it abundantly clear that it’s a matter of expansion, not a strife between species,” Wona adds in quickly, ready to ease worries as always.

It worked because Virion found the muscles in his jaw unwinding. With his free hand, Virion snatched up the wine glass before him and lifted it for the nearest bearer.

“Well, that is good I suppose,” he gave a nod when the glass was filled and took a small sip before asking, “so then, Aiasthlyn must already be on his way.”

His mothers exchanged another look. Virion caught it barely, but he still saw the twitch in their ears.

“He is not?” He ventured when neither spoke.

“Aiasthlyn is off-world,” his mother answered with a hardness she did not use very often with him. “He’s worked exceedingly hard this last feen, so he has taken some time with his pisen.”

The news warmed Virion from the inside out, and he found himself grinning a jol later.

He never cared much for others’ happiness, but seeing his younger brother so entwined with his new lover, the vampire Malcolm, Virion often found himself smiling. Aiasthlyn deserved someone to care for and love him, and luckily, he’d gotten just that within his pisen.

Lost in the joyful musings, it wasn’t until he spotted the solemn expressions between his mothers that he realised he was the only one smiling.

“Is that not favourable news?”

“It is,” the queen-mother replied, her frigid form becoming stiffer, “but it leaves someone to fill his space.”

Understanding came quickly, and Virion’s shoulders slumped for his wona, “You must cancel your trip home. Oh, it grieves me to hear so. Surely, you’ll be able to go afterwards, or perhaps–“

“Our trip remains intact, Virion, ” his mother cut in derisively.

Virion found himself frowning, “Then who is to attend? Ciradyl?” Ciradyl was up to her neck with responsibilities, more so he imagined if Aiasthlyn was off-world.

“No, Virion, not Ciradyl,” the queen-reagent said grimly.

Horror struck Virion, and he had to gasp, “Irros?! You’re sending Irros?”

Were they mad? Irros would likely start a war between all the species if he had even a moment within their presence. The youngest brother of their brood had been an instigator from the moment he was born; he fed off chaos and where there was none, he crafted it.

“No, Virion!” His mother hissed through her sharp teeth, her purple eyes glowing angrily, “It is you that is going! You!”

Virion stilled, like a green-tailed doe only just noticing the drever prowling behind them. His heart beat inside of him, but he felt frozen, as if he were outside his own body while he looked between his mothers.

Surely, he’d misheard. Indeed, he must’ve because they simply could not mean to send him to represent their people on such an important matter. Not him.

“The meeting place is on the darkest isle on The Tear. Your carrier is ready. Your wona has already ensure that it is overloaded with the proper attire for your journey,” his mother listed quickly, not leaving any room for him to think. “You shall leave this moon-rise, at the very latest, and see that you do not leave the isle until matters are solved without any risk to Anael.”

A laugh bubbled out of Virion, a sound that was almost as lost and misplaced as he felt, “Wait a moment,” he pleaded, but his mother carried on.

“As a show of good faith, you shall travel alone. We expect you to show the same grace you carry within these walls. You are to be respectful and attentive. The la-“

“No, wait,” Virion cut in with another laugh, this one dry and empty. “You can not possibly be serious. You wish for me to attend. Me?! When was the last time I reigned over any matter of importance? Even within these walls? I have not a clue what is going on.”

“If your wona and I nursed you in proper stead, as we have, you are perfectly up to date with all matters not just in this castle or on Colony, but throughout the realm. Yes?” Virion’s silence was answer enough. “Your lessons and training have not been forgotten. You know exactly what to do. You are the eldest prince to our name. You, my son, are more than capable.”

Virion knew he was, but he didn’t want to be.

Aiasthlyn was the crown prince for a reason. Virion was meant to look good, not actually do things. Not to mention, politics bored him like nothing else in this world. There was no joy in it, no fun, only bland beings discussing even more bland topics.

“But mother—”

“Enough, Virion. The decision is made, and you will attend,” his mother said firmly, her tone matching that of her station. “You have been derelict with your responsibilities for far too long. You can not continue to rely on your younger siblings. It can not stand.”

For once, Virion was at a loss for words.

Derelict with his responsibilities? What responsibilities? They’d all been stripped from him the moment it became clear that Aiasthlyn was meant to rule.

He’d never resented his brother for that, in fact, he was rather grateful because he never particularly enjoyed all that came with being crown prince for their clan. So when the change came, he never fought it or complained, and as such, the matter had been settled quickly.

Without direction, Virion had taken the proper time and care to show Aiasthlyn all that would be expected of him, taught him what he’d learnt to the best of his abilities, and then left him to flourish when he had proved himself capable. That was all he’d been expected to do– all he could do. Now, his mother was claiming he was negligent? It didn’t make sense.

Turning to his wona, Virion abandoned any hope for aid with her when he found the sadness in her eyes and understood now why she’d seemed so solemn earlier. His wona had always been on his side, ready to stand in his corner even if he were the one at fault, but now, he saw within her golden eyes that this matter had already been decided.

“There is no need to worry, Virion,” she said with as much confidence as she could muster, her hands squeezing his encouragingly. “You know what to do. You will do brilliantly.”

Virion knew that he would, but that was not what scared him.

What scared him was the possibility that this may be the start of a very fast descent into a role he had no wish to fulfil. Perhaps he were letting his mind run too far ahead, but his mother’s words rattled in his innermost thoughts.

What if this was only the start? The first of many tasks that would be aimed his way and the end of the lifestyle he fit so very well.

Looking back to his mother, Virion met the rich purple eyes that were a mirror of his own and silently pleaded with her to change her mind.

The Queen Mother only blinked at him, not a morsel of pity or regret to be found in her gaze’s depths.

“We must be off then,” she said as she stood to her feet. Circling the table, she stopped at his wona’s side with an offered hand, “I suggest you depart with haste as well to avoid the storms of the isle.”

Virion watched, mouth agape, as his wona took her pairing’s hand, allowing her to lead them away with only a weak, parting smile before they were gone.

The thundering sound of the doors closing after them was as foreboding to Virion as his new future.

—————————–

WELL, THERE YOU HAVE IT! Chapter 1 of a new adventure!

Thoughts????

Thoughts on Virion?? On the 3rd person POV???

When I wrote this originally, it was sort of terrifying to put out because it’s my first ever attempt at 3rd person, but for something short, I felt like it would be better, and I personally ended up loving it because I got to write in a completely different way.

Also! The elven realm! AHHH!!!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! Enjoy the next chapter where our 2 main characters meet! And don’t forget to comment!