The Sole Prince

Yer the prince, right?

He was supposed to meet a princess. That was the point of all of this, wasn't it? To meet a princess? And now the prince is imprisoned in the bottom of the second ship he'd ever been on. It's truly miraculous how everything can turn to shit in the blink of an eye.

The worst part of the whole ordeal is that he had gotten lucky. He really should be dead, not here in a room that's obscenely too small and decorated with nothing but a bucket. A bucket in which the prince is supposed to "do his duties" and which he has tried to avoid.

On second thought, perhaps, he had gotten unlucky. Maybe death would be better than this living hell, this state of limbo, this horrid room with the ever-lingering stench of the bucket. He had an actual bathroom back home! And a room with a bed instead of wet, hard wood floors. And a pillow. Oh, a pillow! And books, so many books. Shelves and shelves of novels filled to the brim with worldly works that could transport him anywhere in the world. If anything, he's living the plot of them now, if the book were a tragedy. No blissful novel would start out like this, with the young, sheltered prince left with nothing but the clothes on his back and a necklace he had stashed away in his pocket.

He weaves it through his fingers now—over the pointer, under the middle, and so forth, going back the other direction once he reaches the pinky—and, once there's no more length left, he pulls it all out and does it again. There's simply nothing better to do. Is this his life now? Intertwining a silver necklace between his fingers and thinking about what could have been a love connection, sparked and kindled by a prince and princess meeting for the first time?

Yes, the prince may have feared that he could not have found a way to love her in the way required, in the way the king wanted, but at least he could have found a friend. And that would be far better than this.

Yet, destiny decided to reach out her hand and cause his ship to never make it to its destination, and, thus, pushed the prince off his course.

Really, the ship never making it was inevitable from the start, given how bloody small the crew was. Loaded with just enough people to make the journey, a crew of that sized never had the chance of a fair fight against a gang of pirates. The instant a pirate stepped onto the deck, the prince knew they'd lost. At least he was knocked out by an attacker before he could witness the ship's downfall.

The prince sighs, staring at the bucket that's taunting him, no idea of how long it's been or how long he was out for. He's been awake for possibly a week, but the first few days were quite foggy, and they blur into an obscurity of sea- and home- sickness. Waking up from blacking out for a few days is bad enough, but it's even worse when you're in a room you don't know, and you're too thirsty and hungry to even pick yourself up off the floor. It was embarrassing how long it took him to remember he was on a pirate ship.

Yet, he knows now, so that's some sort of progress. As for the thirst and hunger, they were only partially satiated when a crew mate brought down food for the first time. The prince had practically cried. He'd always been scrawny, a result of academic classes instead of physical training. But, after the undetermined amount of time of not eating, he was nothing but flesh and bones. And although the food didn't help in the process of un-fleshing-and-boning, it prevented him from dying. That's progress as well.

The boat rocks as the prince walks to the ocean-side wall of his room, the one with the cracked glass porthole coated in a thick spread of algae. He's barely able to use it as a window, only able to see the passing patterns of an ever-flowing ocean from a clean spot on the very bottom.

He fumbles with his necklace as he stares off, his eyes slowly un-focusing, his mind drifting away to a place of loss. Of losing a love that never was, of losing the luxury of food security and a full stomach, of losing the privilege of certainty. Gone and washed away with the tide.