Ilyas yawned and stretched languidly in his bed. It was well past noon and he was just rising for the day. The empty space on the bed beside him was cold and he could tell his bed mate had already left hours ago, not that he cared. Rolling over, the price studied the garden outside his window for a moment before sighing and dragging himself out of bed. It wasn’t like he had anything important to do. Being the second son of the Sultan gave him many liberties and Ilyas took advantage of them. The young man, still unclothed clapped his hands and servants appeared from where they had been awaiting the moment of his awakening. Two servants rushed off to the kitchen to fetch the prince’s breakfast while two others busied themselves in covering his naked body with beautiful clothing that had been tailored specifically for him.

As his servants dressed him, Ilyas regarded himself in the mirror. Gold chains hung around his neck, his skin paler than most from being cooped up inside too much. His father hardly ever let him leave the palace, much to his annoyance. Ilyas couldn’t help but feel that he was missing out trapped inside his father’s cage, though it was a large and luxurious one. He often daydreamed about running off and having an adventure of his own. The sultan tried to appease his curiosity by inviting storytellers from all over to tell him stories of faraway lands across the deserts but their ballads only seemed to whet his appetite for travel even more.

His dirty blonde hair spiked this way and that, still mussed from sleep and bored blue eyes reflected back at him and as the servants stepped away, Ilyas got a full-length view of himself. A sleeveless short white robe barely covered his chest while loose white pants embroidered with golden thread enveloped his legs. The ensemble was finished with a sash of golden cloth tied around his waist and a pair of black slippers. Ilyas was stunning and he knew it. No thanks were due to his father he knew. His looks were all his mothers, a foreign beauty that his father had not been able to resist.

By the time he had finished admiring himself in the mirror, breakfast had arrived. The opening of the door revealed a commotion in the hallway however. ”What’s going on?” he asked one of the breakfast servants with a frown. The boy seemed to wither under his gaze, ”Z-zahid has g-gone missing…” he managed choke out before bowing to his master. ”Whaaat!?” Ilyas roared to at no one in particular. ”My brother has gone missing and no one saw fit to inform me?” Ilyas’ temper was legendary, as was his father’s, and most of the servants instinctively bowed and did their best to stay out of his way lest they inflame his wrath further.

Storming out into the hallway, Ilyas looked left, then right, trying best to gauge who might the most-informed about the current state of affairs in the palace. Deciding that none of the riff-raff in the hallway would known anything more than gossip that had likely already blown out of proportion, the prince stalked off towards the throne room to ask his father directly.

((I think the title is good!))