word count: 588

this is the second draft (first with coherent plot) of my novel and for some reason i am really struggling! i would really appreciate a little vibe check and if anyone can think of a reason why it might not be going well that would also be great. thank you all in advance :3

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Freddie woke up at nine o'clock on an entirely normal morning. It was to be the last normal morning he had in a long, long time, though as he got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to take the same bath he always took in the morning he was blissfully unaware of it.

The tub had been filled a few hours ago with cold water, and he dipped a hand into it, summoning just enough heat to warm the water. It bubbled around his fingers.

It was a big tub, but it didn't take long for the water to be hot enough to suit him. He stripped out of the thin trousers he slept in and climbed into the water, careful not to let it slosh over the sides of the tub.

The curtains in the bathroom had been drawn by whoever had filled the tub, and the sun was streaming in through the window. It was early enough that it was still pleasantly warm, not too hot.

He stayed in the water until it started cooling down. Heating it again would take more effort than he could be bothered with, and anyway, he would have to be downstairs for breakfast soon.

There was a towel on the rack by the water and he dried himself off quickly, trying not to drip too much water onto the floor.

His clothes were, as usual, laid out neatly on the floor, a thin red robe and deep maroon jacket, but he left the jacket on his bed, not bothering with it. It was late spring, summer just around the corner, and the days were already sweltering.

His hair was starting to get a little messy, but re-doing it could take hours, so he just wrapped it up in a bun and left it at that. It wasn't like anyone would comment.

The dining hall was half-empty, as it always was when he woke up, but his father was still there, as was one of his brothers.

"Good morning," he said, as Freddie walked in, but he didn't look up from his papers.

"Good morning," Freddie said, sitting down in his usual seat. [name] glanced up and then back down at his food.

Freddie just did his best not to feel ignored. He always felt as though his brothers resented him, somehow, as though he could possibly help being the eldest.

Sometimes it felt as though his father resented him too. He was smaller than all three of his brothers and by far less aggressive, and any of them would make better kings, but here he was.

He tried not to let it bother him.

One of the slaves brought him a plate of food and he mumbled a thanks, poking at it with his fork. He always felt a little uncomfortable about eating food that someone else had made for him. It just … didn't feel right, somehow.

He had to eat, though, and he couldn't get down to the kitchens. He didn't have a choice.

It was good food, at least. That didn't stop him feeling bad about eating it, but it helped.

He didn't like spending time in the dining hall. Half the time it was just him and his family, and he hated spending time with his family.

Maybe that made him a bad person, but it wasn't like they liked spending time with him either. They just didn't get on.

He left as soon as he was finished eating, and no one stopped him.