Alan, the king's nephew.

Alan stood on the balcony of his chambers, looking out west to the storm clouds gathering in the distance. He was deep in thought that morning, playing with the cords on his shirt as was his habit when nervous.
  A high Obscurian magistrate had arrived at his family’s villa the night before. Their “benefactors” normally only communicated by messenger and if one showed themselves personally—especially one of such high standing—there was surely trouble brewing.
  Robert, his father, Prince of Mirantia and younger brother to the great King Malcolm, had been exiled from his homeland thirteen years before. Alan never knew what madness had driven his father to plot against the king—he never dared to ask.
  The offense should have seen him to the gallows, but the good Malcolm could not bear to execute his own brother—despite Robert having no such qualms in return. Malcolm exiled Robert, never to set foot in Mirantia again. But Robert was still brooding and plotting from exile, trying to find some way to gain the throne. The traitorous prince found uneasy allies in the nobility of Obscuria, who agreed to grant him and his family asylum in exchange for information on Mirantia. Alan's father spent a lot of time away from their new “home” travelling Obscuria, trying to find people willing to sponsor his schemes. Patrons came and went but he was no closer to achieving his goals. The Obscurians were concerned Robert would set his plans into motion at an inopportune moment and so kept him under close watch and his family basically prisoners in a golden cage.
  Recently, relations with Mirantia were deteriorating and with them Robert’s fortunes seemed to be on the rise. His whispers of a new king in Mirantia were finding more eager listeners, many yearned for a king friendlier—or even subservient—to Obsuria. Some nefarious plot against Alan’s uncle was being set in motion, there could be no other reason for the magistrate's visit.
  The young man was unsure what to make of his fate. He felt loyalty to his father, as any proper son should, but he had no ill will to his uncle or his uncle's family. In fact, he had only fond memories of his time at the royal palace, playing with his cousins—Stewart, Duncan and Adella. His sister Catrina was best friends with Princess Adella and he had gotten along well with Stewart, who was about the same age as him.
  If his father was to take the throne he had to not only his uncle but also Stewart and Duncan, so his claim to the throne would be valid. He knew his father to be ruthless but that was too much to bear imagining. True, if his father succeeded he would be king in time but that was not worth the cost—at least not to Alan.
  He let out a heavy sigh as he went back inside and gazed at his reflection in the long mirror standing in the far corner of the room. He wasn’t the tallest, standing just short of 6 feet, but many would call his features handsome with his short chestnut brown hair and grey eyes. His garments concealed his body, but it was apparent he wasn’t overly muscled, like some women preferred. As he had spent his time at his new “home” fencing and swimming in the nearby lake—under watch from the guards—he developed an athlete’s body, lean but strong.

A knock on his door stirred him from scrutinising himself.
  ‘Come in, the door’s unlocked,’ he said with his voice slightly raised.