He was identical to his brother in every way. From the white blond hair down to the peach hued tone of their skin. They even dressed alike. There was only one difference between the two, and it was so tricky, so intricate, that it often caused more mishaps than it helped them. The only difference was their eyes. Where Cain was china blue, Lucus was honey brown. Where lucus was brown, Cain blue. Opposites.

"Don't be silly, Cain. Of course they've filled the hole," Lucus lifted a hand and waved his fingers through the air, as if beckoning his brother closer," Can't have the brothers running off and succumbing to pixie stories, now can we?" He might have grunted, or snorted, to emphasize his point...if Lucus had considered the action befitting of a prince. As it was Lucus never permitted himself any vulgar act. From his perfectly precise drawl to the punctual carriage of his steps Lucus did everything as perfectly and deliberately as he could. But his facade of politeness was nothing more than that, a facade. His courtesy nothing more than a show, a lie that only his brother knew the truth to.

Not that Lucus found being polite any sort of hard ship, certainly not. But Lucus, deep down, had never been a particularly kind boy. Being kind and acting kind were two very different attributes, and one of them succeeded in obtaining toys for himself. People, after all, were terribly fun to play with.

"We'll simply have to find another way out."

Lucus arched off the bench, curling his fingers around the dry, withered, black head of a rose. It loosened easily and he plucked it from its vine, laying back against the bench. His fingers rolled across the petals, crushing them to grey dust that pooled against his chest.

"I want roses to bloom in autumn, Cain," finally Lucus propped himself up, resting his head against his hand. He craned his head back, contorting his torso until he was facing his brother," Why not? We're princes, after all. We should get whatever we want, even if god himself thinks it's not a terribly good idea."

Such as escape from the manor.

Especially escape from the manor.

Koun wiped the sweat from his brow and pressed himself against the greying apple tree, staring keenly out across the courtyard at them.

Princes.

They wanted him to kidnap princes.

Koun would never agree to this. He was careful, picky, moral even, when it came down to it. He didn't touch children. And he certainly didn't have any desire to make himself stand out in the eyes of royalty. Anything that would assuredly send him on a one way trip to a guillotine was a proposition to turn down.

The only reason why did didn't turn this one down was because the king and queen themselves had hired him.

He shifted his weight, listening to the quiet crackle of fallen leaves that had pooled all around him, forming a thick circle of crisp, brown foliage. The tree itself had dropped its last apple, smelling sweetly of over ripe fruit with leaves that were nothing but deep, dust hued brown so late into autumn.

He'd been told The Rules. Keep them away from girls of all sorts. Don't invite anyone to the house. Keep them hidden. Keep them safe. And he'd been told how he was going to do it, too.

Which is why he was there, in the royal courtyard, dressed like a groom with a shovel beneath his hands and stinking like horse manure (getting caught by the head groom and being told to get off his lazy ass and do some work had been another unpleasant surprise). He loosened his collar at little, too tight, too constricted, which to heaven and hell he could have persuaded them to choose a different way.

But now wasn't the time to dwell on things. He could hear the braying of horses, waiting just outside the courtyard gates. His get away. Across the courtyard the queen was moving in her garden, stark white against the dying shades of her withered shrubs. She was kept in the corner of his eye. She was the signal. She'd taking her ladies into the court and then the real 'fun' would begin.

The Princes were talking to one another.

Koun broke his gaze away from the queen, turning his attention on the boys.

It wouldn't be long now.

He wiped his brow again and bowed his head. Waiting.