Chapter Text
FIERCE AS A LION: THE YOUNG PRINCE LIVES UP TO HIS NAMESAKE
Prince Aslan Callenreese had a face of thunder as he was escorted out of Iris Bar following an incident inside.
It must’ve been the early hours of the morning that the Prince arrived at his destination, sporting dark blue jeans, a black shirt and a new pair of Prada sunglasses.
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He didn’t last long before attracting attention, however - and not the good kind. The video below shows a verbal argument between Prince Aslan and another person attending that quickly turned physical.
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Our team tried our best to identify the second man in this video, but no breakthrough has been made.
It is unclear who this was originally filmed by, but one thing is for sure: that countless people have seen it. Garnering millions of views across multiple platforms, we at the Sunset are left to wonder - what will His Majesty the King make of this?
As of the publishing of this article, the Monarch has not put out an official statement, and neither has Prince Aslan himself. However, we eagerly await what they have to say, if they decide to… or will they sweep this under the rug as if nothing happened?
COMMENTS [262] ↓
[enclavedave] 72♥
I’m glad this boy isn’t first in line. His brother has never had such a volatile attitude.
> [theza] 39♥
> leave him alone he’s literally a kid every1s made mistakes when they were young
>> [enclavedave] 33♥
>> He’s 17, not 7. You can’t use that excuse. He needs to take responsibility.
[timega] 50♥
Haha, if I was him I wouldn’t have been able to do even half the shit I did as a teenager.
[MarkArck] 43♥
Well, I suppose that growing up without a mother would mess up any kid.
[SpoiledTruck] 41♥
Lord, what has the monarchy come to? I worry for the future of the crown.
> [catcatb0y] 20♥
> oh, and i’m sure user SpoiledTruck would do sooo much better as the prince. right?
[4m3la] 33♥
Ok off topic but I wanna get those sunglasses does anyone know where they’re from?
>[ho_ophy] 35♥
>Found them! Here they are.
>> [lomori] 9♥
>> THAT PRICE ??? 😭😭😭 GOD i wish i was a rich handsome prince
>> [4m3la] 1♥
>> Thank u!!
>[shen_zhen] 28♥
> plssss he looks so good in them <33
>> [4m3la] 11♥
>> DOESN’T HE??? But let's be honest he looks good in anything 😳
[bxbygirl1] 1♥
I’m so lonely… 😉 Click on this link to play with me!
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Ash doesn’t press that button, no matter how tempting it is. Perhaps his father is right, and he really is addicted to his phone. Maybe he could’ve chosen a more reputable site for this - tabloids aren’t exactly an intelligent source of news, but it was the most popular article circulating. One of many. He still doesn’t press the button, although his finger hovers over it. His hands are shaking a little, and he’s worried that laying on his bed like this means it’s going to fall on his face. Ash isn’t sure why his hands are doing that. It’s not like he cares what the people think of him. He’s not even next in line, so it’s not as if what he does matters. What has the monarchy come to? Such bullshit.
There’s a knock on his door, and he throws his phone to the side like he's been caught watching porn. If that’s the servant’s first thought, though, it doesn’t show on his face - he simply bows at Ash, who cranes his neck to see.
“His Majesty is waiting for you,” Is all he says before making a swift exit.
Ash sits up, gripping his bedsheets with an intensity that turns his knuckles a sickly white. The silk makes him shiver. Heading over to his mirror, he smooths out the wrinkles in his suit, adjusting a few hairs here and there. The gilded border frames his reflection like a painting. A pretty pathetic one, at that - he hopes the eye bags won’t be visible on camera.
He opens his bedroom door and makes his way towards one of the many rooms of the palace, slowly but not so slow as to make it look like he’s dawdling. None of the servants look at him. He recites his mandated speech in his head while he’s on his way, more out of habit than necessity. It’s engraved into his brain at this point.
The camera is almost as large as the sofa everyone is going to sit on and play happy family. Ash’s family wait just out of shot of the lens, his father giving him a look that makes him instinctively roll his eyes. This, obviously, doesn’t make the situation any better. Instead, his father leans down to him, whispering sharply.
“If this isn’t practically perfect I’ll give you what-for later, you understand me?” Before Ash can respond one of the crew signals for them to sit down, and so his father takes his place on the couch, on Ash’s left.
Before the two of them show themselves to the rest of the country, Griff gives him a sympathetic smile and a gentle pat on the back, before taking his seat on the other side of the couch, on Ash’s right. It’s not much, but it helps. His brother always manages to.
Finally, the star of the show himself sits in the middle, directly in front of the piercing gaze of the camera. He’s not sure if he’s sweating due to nerves or the incessant lighting shining directly onto him. Either way, it better not show up on video. Griff bumps their knees together in reassurance. Their father frowns, moving his further away.
The man behind the camera slowly counts down with his fingers. Three, two, one. Ash takes a deep breath in. A deep breath out.
“First of all, I would like to say…” He clasps his hands together, trying to keep his gaze cool. “...no one is more disappointed in me than I am.”
Not true.
“At the time, I was tired and emotional and thought I was justified in my actions, but I know it is never right to act out in the way I did.”
Not true. That dickhead deserved it, insulting Griff like that.
“Although I may not be Crown Prince, I know I still hold some responsibility-” He licks his lips. “-and I need to act in a kind and respectful way to reflect the monarchy’s values.”
That’s... true. Which sucks.
“I’ve learnt my lesson and hope to grow from this experience, and will not be repeating this mistake.”
Okay, I’m back to lying again.
“To reflect my poor behaviour, my father - His Majesty the King - has decided-” Ash stops short, the words caught in his throat. Both his father and brother subtly side-eye him, two looks carrying very different messages. “-he has decided… to remove me from the public school at which I currently attend. Instead, I will be studying at Glenreed Academy for the foreseeable future.”
Shit, I wish that was a lie.
And Ash had tried his hardest to fight his father on this - what about Shorter? He can’t leave his friends behind. And his peers didn’t give him any special treatment because he was the Prince, something he’d been used to until then. After about a week, the novelty had worn off an no one cared who he was. If they did, it was because they disliked the monarchy and him, by proxy (which is a little unfair, to judge him by his father).
It took some time to get used to, definitely, but once he had… it had been nice, to not have the attention on him constantly. Before he knew it, that school was his new normal, and it gave him whiplash when he’d return home and countless people would be waiting on him hand and foot, ready to act on his every want and need. Ash didn’t want to go to some proper private boarding school where everyone wore uniforms and sucked up to him.
Griff kicks his foot gently, and he starts, realising he hadn’t quite finished. He clears his throat, shifting in his seat.
“Once again, I deeply regret my actions, and am constantly striving to do better.” He nods. “Thank you.”
There’s a few seconds of painful silence that seem to stretch forever until the camera blinks off. Everyone relaxes.
Ash’s father walks off immediately, so he couldn’t have performed that badly. He turns to Griff, who ruffles his hair, finding no reason to keep it nice now all is said and done.
“Thanks,” Ash says drily as he runs his fingers through the newly formed birds’ nest on top of his head.
Griffin grins fondly. “You did well.”
Ash starts patting down his hair. “...Thanks,” He says again, with more sincerity.
“Definitely a better performance than my first time-”
“-You’ve been involved in a scandal? When?” Ash looks up sharply, hands falling away from his head.
“Ah… no, that’s not what I meant.” Griffin smiles almost sheepishly, looking off to the side. “I was talking about when Dad wanted me to read out the Christmas speech. Remember?”
“Oh. Yeah.” Ash isn’t surprised - Griff is a model Crown Prince. Even the tabloids haven’t been able to find any dirt on him. “Really? That was your first time speaking for TV?”
“By myself, yeah. I’m pretty sure I almost threw up beforehand. And while I was on air? I kept looking to the camera crew for reassurance. When I re-watched it, I thought it looked like I was being held hostage, but Dad said it looked fine. He was most likely a bit delirious from the bout of flu he had then, though.”
Ash snorts despite himself. That had been a glorious few weeks - sure, people were still breathing down his neck at every turn, but at least they didn’t have the authority to chastise him for every move he made.
“I don’t remember it being bad,” Ash says.
He does remember how every newspaper lapped the speech up, singing Griff’s praises and exclaiming how he would be a perfect King. Ash would be mad if his brother wasn’t the kindest, most genuine person he knew. Sometimes he questions whether he’s really the son of their father, who, on the contrary, never has anything truly nice to say.
“Well, you know what they say. You’re your own worst critic.” Griffin stands up, ruffling Ash’s hair again. Scowling, he wraps his arms around his head. “Don’t fall into that trap of constantly putting yourself down.”
“Yeah, okay,” He grumbles. Ash considers carrying around a pocket mirror whenever he’s around his brother. Or a helmet.
Griffin glances towards the camera crew. “I’m going to ask them if they need anything.”
Of course he is. But before he does-
“Wait-” Ash stops himself, feeling pretty stupid at his request - how old is he, ten?
“Hm?” An eyebrow raised, Griff waits on his brother.
Well. He’s in too deep, now.
“Are you- could you see me off when I leave? If you’re not busy,” He adds hastily.
Griff beams. “Of course I will! Who knows when I’ll see you again after?” He pulls Ash’s head towards him in a half-hug, leaving his face squished and his hair messy.
“It’s not that dramatic. We can always call.” Ash mumbles, words somewhat mangled by Griffin’s blazer.
“Ah, it’s just not the same, is it?”
Griffin wraps Ash into a proper hug this time, one which he gladly returns, squeezing tightly. It goes on far longer than acceptable, considering his father’s impatient foot-tapping, but he doesn’t care. Griff was right - he’s not sure when they’ll see each other in person again. Christmas? That’s in a few months’ time.
“You’ll be fine,” Griffin murmurs into his ear before unwinding his arms. Ash stumbles on his feet. He’s not so sure, but he heads towards the car anyway. It’s sleek and black, probably some iconic car brand, but Ash doesn’t really know cars. The point is, it’s the exact type of vehicle the Prince should be travelling in, and perfect for the press.
His father comes up to the passenger window as soon as he’s buckled in, and Ash has half a mind to wind up the glass so he can't hear him.
“Behave, alright?” His father narrows his eyes at him. “Any business like that fight…”
He lets Ash use his imagination to come up with a suitable punishment. His father has never laid a hand on him (neither to hit nor hug him) but it isn’t that hard to think he could start if he causes any more trouble.
The chauffeur and the King share a look, and the car comes to life with a deep growl. His father paces backwards from the window, watching in stony-faced silence as the car backs out of the drive.
“Have fun!” Griffin exclaims, waving a handkerchief like a wife sending her husband off to war.
Ash laughs at the gesture despite the pit in his stomach, waving feebly back. He keeps going until Griff is completely out of sight, and the smile drops from his face.
Leaning back into the car seat, he closes his eyes and tries to think of anywhere but Glenreed Academy.