Chapter Text
It was just another day, a familiar rhythm to the life of a crown prince. The dawn light spilt through the window, casting a warm glow on the rich tapestries that adorned the walls of his chamber. With a stretch and a yawn, he rose from his slumber, shaking off the remnants of his dreams. He dutifully navigated through the morning routine, donning his meticulously crafted attire that spoke of his noble status.
After splashing water on his face, he settled at his mahogany desk, piled high with papers that demanded his attention. The scent of aged parchment filled the air as he tackled each document, his quill gliding smoothly across the surface. If meetings awaited him with the esteemed nobles—an everyday occurrence in his life—he would attend, his composure unwavering, reminding them of their subservient roles and his undeniable authority.
The tasks of the day unfolded seamlessly as he moved from one obligation to the next. Amidst the discussions and strategic planning, there lingered an undercurrent of tension, a reminder that danger often lurked in the shadows—assassins were a constant threat to his life. Yet, by nightfall, any fleeting worry would dissolve into the hours spent in his office, where he poured over scrolls and reports, tracking every change in the kingdom. He embraced the stillness of night, consuming the silence as he burned the midnight oil, his focus unwavering as dawn approached once again.
Yet beneath the surface of this predictable routine, an unsettling element had begun to disrupt the monotony. With each passing month, as his 20th birthday drew closer, an odd little creature emerged—a plump red bird with dark feathered wings, appearing on his balcony like an eerie spectre. If he had been anyone else, perhaps he would have thought, "Oh, how cute! You're a Disney princess!" But for him, the reality was a chilling enigma.
Imagine that small bird, its coal-black eyes scrutinising him from dawn until dusk, perched silently as if guarding a secret. It never flinched even when he cast it a wary glance; it seemed to follow him with its gaze alone, yet it never ventured inside—just remained a silent observer from the windows. Every attempt to shroud his sanctuary with curtains ended in futility, as come morning, he would find the drapes mysteriously drawn back, exposing him to the little creature’s unwavering stare. He was certain he hadn't opened them himself; after all, years of being a dark elf had attuned him to the intricacies of his own habits.
The bird's head would swivel to track his movements, its piercing gaze both unsettling and oddly compelling. How did he even know it was the same bird, anyway? We'll he doesn't, but he had started to recognise a distinctive feature—a single feather that grew out at an odd angle, sticking out like a rebellious strand of hair, making it unmistakable. Sometimes, the feather was tucked down to its head, but even then, it remained prominent, often accompanied by another sticking out beside it. This peculiar trademark made the bird unforgettable for the prince. Its behavior was equally notable; it never left its perch, as if bound by an unspoken vow to observe him closely.
Despite the gentle breeze, the bird stood motionless, its coal-black eyes dissecting his every move. Each day, he found himself stealing glances at the balcony, hoping for a sign of movement. The thought of being stalked by such a tiny, watchful creature sent a shiver down his spine.
It wasn’t just the peculiar appearance of the bird that intrigued him, but also its uncanny behaviour. Forever lingering in its chosen spot, it had left behind delicate claw marks on the railing, testament to its steadfastness. Despite the familiarity of its presence, he struggled to pinpoint its species —perhaps a cardinal of sorts, though its small size and slender beak cast doubt on that classification. Eventually, he relinquished the attempt to categorise it, opting instead to wonder at its enigmatic existence.
He'd tried to shoo it away, waving his hands dismissively, but the little creature had no intention of relocating. Instead, it fixated on him with an unsettling tenacity. On one occasion, in an impulsive act, he attempted to nudge it aside, only to have the small bird defend itself with a sharp peck that drew blood. The annoyance of it all left him perplexed; he should have been deterred by the pain, yet deep down, a part of him found the bird oddly endearing.
In a moment of whimsicality, he’d even greeted it one morning, hoping for a response that never came. Feeling slightly guilty for its apparent neglect, he began leaving offerings—crumbs of food, tiny pots of fresh water—on a table just outside his balcony. He placed beans and assorted birdseed with care, but it was as if the little creature had declared a silent war against nourishment, turning away from the provisions while maintaining its relentless gaze upon him.
Eventually, the weight of his concern lightened; while he fretted over the possibility of it starving or thirsting, it consistently looked robust and healthy. Consequently, he resolved to replace the untouched offerings once a week, pushing aside thoughts of the bird's well-being.
Still, he often found himself pondering what action might provoke the creature to move or look away. Its constant presence became an odd facet of his daily life, and curiosity flickered like a candle in his mind, wondering what it would take to shift its steadfast behaviour.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
This particular morning, with the sun shining brightly through the window, he was wrapping up the last of his paperwork before a routinely scheduled meeting with a central noble. The tasks at hand felt light, almost like a gentle breeze brushing against him, and he could easily finish without breaking a sweat. Just as he was ready to sign off on another document, a low growl resonated from his stomach, reminding him that breakfast had been neglected in the flurry of responsibility. His gaze lingered on a jar of cookies nestled on a nearby shelf—a tempting treasure secured behind glass, still exuding the warmth of the previous afternoon's baking.
Baking had become a cherished hobby, a sweet escape from the weight of his title. Despite his culinary disasters when it came to cooking savoury dishes, he had surprisingly mastered the art of creating delightful desserts. From macarons to layered cakes, he relished the process, and this time he had opted for classic chocolate chip cookies, their aroma still lingering in the air.
With an innocent grin, he reached for the jar, feeling the smooth surface of the glass beneath his fingers, and he lifted the lid, its light crack echoing in the quiet room. The warmth of the cookies brushed against his senses as he retrieved one, his mouth watering in anticipation. One bite would suffice until the meeting; the sweet, buttery taste melted in his mouth, and he savoured the moment.
Just as he was about to indulge in another piece, Tasha entered the office, her presence a welcome distraction. “It’s time for your meeting, my prince,” she announced with a nod, prompting him to hastily finish his treat. With a swift motion, he polished off the last morsel and gathered his papers, steeling himself as he prepared to step into the world beyond his sanctuary, ready to face whatever awaited him outside.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Alberu’s heart pounded in his chest as he and his aunt meticulously combed through the disheveled papers strewn across his desk. The air hung heavy with tension, thick like fog on a brisk morning, as every moment stretched painfully long. Each rustle of parchment seemed to amplify the unnerving silence, charged with the unsettling realization that his personal sanctuary had been compromised.
“Who could have entered my office while I was ensnared in that blasted meeting?” Alberu muttered, frustration swirling like a tempest within him. The earlier cacophony among the nobles had drained him, and the invasion of his private space only added to his growing irritation.
“Maybe it was one of the servants,” his aunt suggested, though uncertainty laced her words, casting a shadow over the possibility. “They might have been trying to tidy up while you were away.”
Alberu shook his head vehemently, his fingers drumming anxiously against the polished wooden surface of the desk. “No, I ensured that everyone knew to leave my office untouched. Whoever this intruder is, they clearly disregarded my explicit instructions.”
His gaze darted around the room, each document scrutinized under the intense scrutiny of his thoughts. When his eyes landed on the imposing cabinet that housed a thick folder containing sensitive reports regarding the kingdom's defenses, dread clawed at his insides. He had locked it away deliberately; its information was vital to his safety and the stability of the realm.
“Please,” he implored, his voice tinged with desperation, “tell me we didn’t overlook that folder.”
His aunt rose, her brow furrowed in worry as she navigated through the chaos of papers. “Let me check,” she said, her voice as steady as it could be, though it trembled slightly under the weight of the situation. She approached the cabinet and pulled it open with a slow, deliberate motion, as if bracing herself for the worst.
For a moment, Alberu could hardly breathe, watching her flip through the contents with bated breath. Each passing second felt like an eternity, each flick of the folder a dissection of his anxiety, until ultimately she exhaled a shaky breath. “It’s here. Thank the stars.”
A wave of relief washed over him, though any lingering comfort was quickly overshadowed by the churning unease deep in his gut. He thought again of the volatile meeting, characterized by chaos and heated voices clashing like swords in battle. The sheer anarchy had left him feeling as though he were drowning, powerless to quell the storm raging around him.
“Alberu,” his aunt interjected, pulling him from his spiraling thoughts. “We need to determine who or what caused this breach. You cannot allow such disorder in your own space—this could mean they had intents beyond mere mischief.”
“Yes, I know!” he snapped, the weight of responsibility pressing heavily against his shoulders like a cloak of lead. Running a hand through his tousled hair, he attempted to shake off the feeling of panic that threatened to engulf him. “I just need to know if they sought is still here—or if they’ll return for more.”
His gaze fell once more on the empty cookie jar, an innocuous artifact of comfort that had now morphed into a symbol of disruption within the refined confines of his office. The jar, once filled with sweet confections that brought a sense of warmth to his demanding days, now sat barren and hauntingly silent on the polished mahogany desk. How could something so trivial evoke such unease within him? The thought gnawed at his mind: who would infiltrate his sacred space, pilfer the cookies, yet leave everything of greater significance untouched? It felt almost like a personal affront, a brazen challenge to his authority and dignity.
Call him prideful and egoistic, but as the crown prince, he bore the heavy mantle of expectation and scrutiny. He knew that every minor incident often held deeper implications. This cookie thief must have aimed to send a message or provoke him; surely there was more at stake than simple cravings for sweets.
"I'm going to ask Shawn for the list of documents he sent to the office. I'll be right back," his aunt announced, her voice slicing through his reverie. He barely registered her words, too absorbed in the sight of the empty jar, an ominous void now taking on a life of its own. He offered a distracted nod, the weight of inquiry pressing down on him.
Once the soft thud of the door reverberated through the room, an electric silence enveloped him. Seizing the opportunity, he leaned in closer to the jar, examining it as if it were a crime scene awaiting forensic analysis. A few stray crumbs lingered at the bottom, pale remnants of indulgence, but there were no clues to betray the identity of the thief—a phantom responsible for this audacious act.
Frustration simmered within him as thoughts darted through his mind like shadows. Was the culprit a fellow noble, seeking to undermine his authority? Or perhaps a staff member testing the limits of loyalty, disguised in the familiarity of the castle’s daily rhythm? The quiet violation cut deeper than he expected; it wasn’t merely about stolen cookies but the unsettling breach of trust that loomed over him.
With each passing moment, irritation bubbled and mingled with a restless curiosity. What was their motive? How could he uncover their intentions hidden beneath layers of sugary temptation? A simple jar of cookies had transformed into a complex puzzle, and he resented the distraction it imposed on his meticulously structured day.
He scrutinized the jar with an eagle eye, his search fueled by the hope of uncovering a clue about the identity of the cookie thief. And then, his gaze landed on a tiny, telling detail - faint impressions on the jar's surface, impressions that looked uncannily like bird claws. The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning, and he strode purposefully towards the balcony, his heart racing with anticipation.
As he stepped out onto the balcony, the little pudgy red bird with it's prominent singular feather sticking out caught his eye, its vibrant plumage a stark contrast to the mess it had made. The bird's beak was smeared with cookie crumbs, and its tiny body was speckled with the same telltale signs of cookie consumption. A half-eaten cookie lay abandoned on the floor, its crumbs scattered around it like a trail of breadcrumbs leading to the culprit. The bird's guilty appearance was almost palpable, its bright eyes seeming to gleam with a mischievous spark.
...
"Pfft..." It was so absurd.
Guess he found one thing that could actually move the little bird. As he stood there, incredulity washed over him. The sight of the little bird, plump and covered in cookie crumbs, sent a sudden burst of laughter bubbling from his lips. "What on earth have you done?" he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. It was both hilarious and infuriating to witness such boldness in an animal so small.
The bird, seemingly undeterred by its predicament, fluffed its feathers and raised its head defiantly. It looked almost proud, as if it had just conquered a great feat. Alberu couldn't help but admire its audacity. The little creature had not only nibbled on his cookies but had also turned his careful efforts at baking into a spectacle of chaos and devoured every single one of them
He took a step closer, careful not to make any sudden movements that might scare it away. "So you're the infamous cookie thief," he said, crouching down to get a better look. The feathery bandit peered back at him, its tiny eyes twinkling with mischief. It was as if they were locked in a silent standoff, each trying to gauge the other's intentions.
"Tweet!"
With a sigh mixed with amusement, Alberu rummaged through his thoughts. How could he ever stay mad at something so endearing? Deciding it was time to embrace the absurdity of the situation, he broke off a piece of the half-eaten cookie from the floor and held it out toward the little bird.
"Here," he offered, "you’ve earned it. Just try not to eat me out of house and home, alright?"
The bird tilted its head, contemplating the offering before fluttering closer. With a quick flutter of its wings, it hopped toward him, snatching the piece of cookie with unerring precision. It settled back on the ground, pecking at its new prize with a fervor that made Alberu laugh again.
“Guess I need to keep an eye on my treats from now on,” he remarked, watching the tiny creature devour the cookie remnants. The absurdity of the moment filled him with warmth and lightness. Perhaps this feathered thief was just what he needed—a reminder to take life a little less seriously and enjoy the unexpected joys it brought, even in the form of a pudgy red bird and a stolen cookie.
“Welcome to the family, you little rascal,” he said playfully as he turned to head back inside, chuckling to himself.