
There was some commotion in the Vandelinde Estate as Loren went about the morning chores. The other servants milling about had been staring at him longer than they normally did, whispering amongst themselves and pretending like he couldn't hear them. Thus far, he'd made out that there was going to be some sort of festivities occurring in the kingdom due to the return of a knight that had fought valiantly at their northern borders. The man was returning a war hero. But Loren still didn't know what that had to do with him and why they stared so much it was like they were boring holes in his skull. Despite remembering that he used to be a prince, he remembered very little about much of how he'd acted when he wore the crown.
If Loren could remember Kieran though, he would have been first in line to greet his lover. Stares of the public be damned, if his memory wasn't locked behind a cloudy haze, he would have kissed him while they gawked at them until someone carried him away. But as it stood now, he felt as though moths were eating through the grey matter of his brain daily- leaving less and less there in their wake. The fog of amnesia was thick, and the medicine, unknowingly to him only made it all the worse.
He stared at the pills he held in his hand. They'd been prescribed by the apothecary and palace mages to cure his manic episodes and make it easier to function daily, and they did help in that regard, but they did little to cure the nightmares and headaches he still had. Horrible memories plagued his dreams. Bringing the brick down against his father's head again and again chief among them. No one spoke about it, and even when he asked them why this had happened, everyone looked at him like they may look at a kicked puppy and told him that he shouldn't try to remember these things. It felt patronizing, humiliating, even to be told that these things didn't matter, but he'd learned over the course of two years to stop asking because no one would tell him anything of importance.
"Take your medicine, Loren." Lady Vandelinde had never let him miss a dose. She too was convinced that they were helping more than they were hurting, and Loren didn't want to disappoint her as she'd risked so much to keep him from the executioner's block.
Soft brown hues turned upwards to meet her gaze apologetically. "Right. Sorry. My head is elsewhere today." In the clouds it seemed. He did as he was told and took the pills- chasing them with a drink from his own glass. It was clear that the lady of the house worried about his recovery. Their reputation was at stake as they'd taken him in instead of letting him be executed for his crimes. Part of him hated that they'd taken pity on him as living like this- with half of his mind intact- was no way to live. He'd grown a bit jaded in two years from this predicament, but didn't want to cause trouble to the people that had given him a second chance.
"The Vandelinde Estate will be attending the event today. Are you feeling up to helping us out today, Loren?" She was kind to worry about him and his aversion to crowded spaces.
Her son sneered over at the blonde- face stuffed to the brim full of toast that Loren had just placed on the table for them. "Since when do we let servants attend events?"
The harsh words made Loren flinch. Ever since he'd been delegated as a servant to the estate, the eldest son of house Vandelinde- Remy- had taken it upon himself to humiliate the blonde in any way he saw fit to do so. Remy had previously been his servant in the palace- a trusted advisor and he'd thought a friend. But with the way that he was being treated now, it was likely that the other boy felt nothing but contempt for him.
He said nothing in response to the words Remy said to him. Choosing silence rather than harsh rebuttal seemed a better option.
He could hear the whispering starting up behind him. Something about it being a bad idea to bring him along coming from the other servants that stood in the doorway. Loren knew crowds could be hard for him to handle, but surely he wasn't that much of a liability these days. "I should be fine to help. If it gets to be too much, I can just return to finish the tasks around the estate. I'd rather not inconvenience you if it's important to make a good impression, Lady Vandelinde."
"Not at all. You should get out of the house more often. The fresh air will do you some good. Go get yourself ready, then." She waved him away and he offered a gentle bow of his head in respect towards her before leaving. There had been something behind her careful, watchful gaze that he couldn't quite read.
On his way out, he caught a name on the servant's lips. Sir Kieran. And that stirred up something uncomfortable in his chest and mind both. There was a painful throbbing behind his temples. The onset of a migraine that usually came from painful flashes of his past. His vision was blurring as he walked, and by the time he'd made it to his room, he was doubled over on the floor with his head in his hands. Breathing came out in quiet, short, panicked bursts as though he'd forgotten how to breathe in just a few moments. Tinnitus rang loudly in his ears and his hands shook as he held either side of his face in his palms. He could feel tears hot and scolding running down his cheeks, but he barely had the capacity to focus on them in this state.
Why had just one name caused his brain to feel like it was ripping itself apart? It wasn't familiar to him- at least he didn't recognize it immediately. But there was a warmth in his chest that was hard to ignore. Part of him still wished that he could greet Kieran warmly, with a smile as the prince he was supposed to be even if his addled mind didn't recognize that wanting. The cold stone ground helped him regain his center, and his vision slowly returned to him. Blinking back the tears, he was able to pick himself up from the ground. The throbbing behind his eyes had slowed to a dull ache- still there, still present, but manageable for now. Loren was just grateful to have this breakdown behind a closed door so that people wouldn't stare at him. Part of him wanted to ask why this man was so important- why he felt important to him too despite not even knowing who he was, but he knew he would get concerned glances and empty words in response.
These memories always came to him broken, like paintings warped by time and neglect or like he was watching things unfold through dirty, broken lenses and hearing things as though he were miles underwater- doomed to never piece together the full tidbits of conversation. This time all he could hear was an unfamiliar voice calling him 'Wren' and no one he knew did that since his mother had passed and the man's voice was definitely not her.
Loren busied himself with his clothes- changing out of his normal wear that he wore about the estate and into something suitable to go out. Still in a tunic that bore the Vandelinde colors on their sleeves, but underneath, he wore dark, unassuming trousers. Over it, a dark cloak to keep out the chill of the early spring air. Long hair was braided to keep it tied back. It'd been cut short when he'd been kept in the tower awaiting his trial, but now it had grown long again, and he was considering cutting it again just to keep it out of his way since it got in his way when he was cleaning often.
His hands still shook, but he fought to keep them steady as he rejoined the lady of the house who directed some of the servants in what to do while they were out, and he followed after her at a respectable distance. The brisk air did feel much more pleasant than it'd felt inside, and he was grateful she had invited him now. As they walked into the village square, it was livelier than it normally was with excited children and guards milling about. Vendors were selling their wares and haggling for better deals from their patrons.
And then the gate opened and everyone was watching as horses rode in through the opened gates. Loren's heart pounded in his chest seeing knights bearing the crest of the crown-guard. These knights were important and he wondered why they, of all people, would have been exiled to the north. Surely, the king's best knights were less expendable than normal soldiers would have been.
The horse the man in front was riding had stopped as it passed Loren as he stood there and turned its head toward him- giving him a gentle nudge with its snout as though it recognized him. Loren let out a soft laugh at the ticklish nuzzle and offered a gentle pat in response. "I'm so sorry to distract your horse. I'm afraid I don't have any treats though." He offered a bow of his head in apology towards the unfamiliar man and took a step back so that he wouldn't interrupt their path even further. The last thing he wanted was to cause a scene or make someone angry at him. And now people were staring which made him even more uncomfortable with the situation. The urge to run was strong.
A warm flush filled those pale cheeks and he swallowed thickly. Breathing a little unsteady now. "I'm going home." Loren said flatly and was gone before she could have stopped him. He brought the hood of his cloak up to cover his hair and keep the attention off of himself.
But Loren didn't return back to the estate. Rather, his footsteps took him towards the empty courtyard in the far rear of the palace. Even guard patrols rarely came out this far these days. Abandoned, empty. The spot that he always came when he needed to clear his head though its importance was lost on him. Yet another thing he couldn't remember why this spot was so important. His body felt heavy as he seated himself down on the edge of the broken fountain that was filled with rain water and he looked down at his shaking hands in his lap.
"What is wrong with me? I can't even make it through one outing without panicking." His words were a quiet chastisement of his own behavior. The moment he'd felt people staring at them, he'd ran away without thinking too hard on it and he felt guilty. He should have just stayed home rather than embarrass her like that. But he couldn't handle the incessant whispering there either or the harsh words of Remy who would give him even more shit for running away as he had.