Alistair was incapable of matching the joy of the many others before him. The best he could offer was a wavering smile as they cheered and drank. He loved to see Atkana and his mother happy but there was a pit feeling that something were terribly wrong and only going to get worse even above the absence of his father. Momentarily he even took to blame the gut feeling on the food, but his mother, (particularly as ruler now), was a perfectionist and very intense. Things were either done her way or be beheaded. Now there was absolutely nothing to stop her ambitions or raise a second thought. He supposed she could have been quite the scary woman if he weren’t born and raised by her.
He raised his lesser chalice with a small smile to the end of his mother’s speech and almost brought it to his own lips when he caught scent of wine. He drew back eyeing the liquid substance and sighed out gently returning it to rest on the table, watching the people celebrate.
Are you enjoying yourself, darling?" He turned to her. “Yes, mother,” he responded. He inhaled bracing to say the next part. “This is a great celebration for our deserving soldiers. And a step forward to Atkana’s advance.”
Upon looking forward to the brave soldiers that had Atkana’s solute, he furrowed his brows. “They’re pigs!” he commented surprised, watching them stuff their face like it were their last meal. Immediately he regretted speaking illy of the soldiers. Their table manners undeniably needed polishing but they were the means of Atkana’s success. “Forgive me, mother,” he added softly lowering his eyes to his plate.