It felt like two years ago when the infamous and powerful General Dazai of the Three Realms was... reassigned. The crown prince was a difficult, flippant young man and often up in trouble—the prince would say "I'm not looking for trouble, it just finds me"—and with his coronation arriving within weeks, he had to be protected. He had a target on his back and it was Osamu's job to make sure no one hit it.

Osamu pushed open the door to the prince's chambers, deciding it was time to rouse the prince from rest, and closed it behind him after he'd entered. The brunet walked to the large window at one end of the bedchamber, pulling open the lavish, crimson curtains to allow the gilded light of morning to flow like liquid gold into the room. He'd rather not have to shake the prince awake yet another time but he wasn't against it. He had to admit the prince was quite beautiful—though he'd argue such beauty is wasted on such a tiny slug like the prince—and sleep or the tender hours of the morning, where the prince could be bathed in gold and awash in peaceful slumber with heavy limbs and dazed eyes, only enhanced such beauty.

He stepped to the side, allowing the light to reach the opulent bed the redhead rested upon like an offering to the gods in beauty, in youth and hopefully rouse him from his sleep.