sandbox | dotae

II

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Nine years of living in the palace, and nothing much had changed. The now teen prince was sixteen and still neglected by his parents in almost every way. He still went out to the village he used to live in with  his aunt—who hadn’t been seen since the day he was sent to the palace—and he would still see the soft faced male. 

The reason he got out easily throughout the years was because he is friends with one of the guards and other people who worked inside the palace. They would bring him with them when they took trips to the village or pretend to not notice when he would climb himself over the gate at the break of dawn. 

Even though he often made friends easily, there was one person he never sought as a friend, the sandbox boy. It would’ve been ridiculous to just hold a grudge against him for petty kindergarten fighting, but it got worse as they continued to run into each other, and the day he went out at sixteen, just wanting to get some bread for his friend who hadn’t eaten in two days, it had gotten the worst it ever had before. 

Although the prince was getting bullied by the male—still, not being completely one-sided as the prince would fight back—he was always quite thankful that it was never a group of people against him, it was always just the two of them. 

When the prince decided to go out and buy the bread, he was expecting a smooth travel and to not be out very long; it was a Friday meaning the queen was going to check on the prince’s studies and mastery of certain skills. Knowing that he needed to be fast, what normally feels like climbing a wall felt like jumping over it, and the prince ran swiftly towards the village that was about three miles away. The trip to the small village within the capitol was always nice; the breeze, the scenery, the lack of people, it never got to be a hassle until he got to the village’s edge. 

If the prince was seen going into the village from the road he ran on, people would know that he is the prince, so he always comes in from the opposite side, well that is normally the plan. People in the village continued to regard him as handsome enough to be from the royal family, so he always has to be careful to keep rumors away from him. However, there was someone who knew his identity who was standing at the north gate to greet him on that, was lovely before he saw his face, morning. 

“Look what the dog drug in,” he sneers as he talks to the shorter male in front of him. “It’s the prince. Oh your majesty please do spare me for accidentally seeing you coming from the castle to lollygag around town.” 

The prince decides to ignore the rather arrogant teen in front of him and continues his way to the east side of the village, but to his disliking, the male follows him. As the teen follows the prince, he drags his feet, being sure to kick some fallen pine cones into the heel of the male in front while sighing occasionally. Some may think of this as flirting, but both of the teens thought it far from that. Furthermore, the pine cones sent pain up the prince’s leg at contact from how hard it had been kicked, the teen dragging his feet was loud and being right outside the village meant that his stealthiness just became a lot less sneaky, and the sound of the other sighing was causing the prince to go crazy from annoyance. 

“Look,” the prince turns around, facing the slightly taller teen who just raises his eyebrows at the others whisper-yell. “I don’t care that you are causing me pain like always, as much as I would rather you not, but can you be quiet. I need to get in and out of the village because my friend hasn’t eaten, so can you please just be quiet, or better yet, not follow me?” 

It may be pointless, but the prince stands looking at the other, waiting for an answer. The teen looks up as if in thought, with a slight pout on his face; that the prince may or may not really want to smack off his lips. Another sigh leaves the tallers lips and he looks down at the annoyed prince.

“Let me get this straight,” as the teen talks, he lowers himself so that he is eye-level with the prince, “you traveled three miles from the palace, to grab food to eat for a friend, from the village. Does the palace’s food not satisfy your so-called friend, or do you just not want to share such luxury with them?” 

The prince began to get really annoyed by the male in front of him, “you don’t even know me.” 

“Of course I do,” the teen continued to talk in a monotone voice unlike the prince in front of him. “You are the prince of one messed up family, you are the little boy who knocked down my castle, and you are one of the most wanted heads within the village.”

“I am not associated with my family like you seem to think,” even with the prince trying to tell himself to stay calm, he couldn’t. His voice was beginning to raise even when trying to keep it down. “When I am crowned, I will do my best to fix what my family couldn’t”

A laugh. That’s what he gets in return from the teen.

“What kind of sixteen year old has such big dreams, because I know I don’t,” he just keeps talking, making the prince’s blood boil. “You do realize that as soon as your face is revealed as the prince, the amount of assassins trying to get your head will be overwhelming. You will probably die before the age of thirty, and me? Oh I will be celebrating joyfully, for reasons you don’t need to know.” 

“You won’t be celebrating because I won’t be dead,” the prince talks through gritted teeth. 

“Look,” the teen who had finally leaned back, gets closer to the prince, matching his level as he had been before. “Just between you and me, that father I warned you about, will be the death of you. Either him or his heir, which may or may not be his second oldest. Oh my goodness, that’s me.” 

He couldn’t take it anymore. Holding onto being a good guy for so long, he just couldn’t. The final straw had just been pulled, he was not going to be told by his enemy since the age of seven that he would be the one to cut off his head, so like any sane teen would’ve done, the prince punched the teen who wasn’t expecting it. That however, was a mistake. 

Just like at the age of seven, the sixteen year old was pinned by the violent boy and punched around. He didn’t fight back, he just laid on the sticks and pine needles from the nearby forest and let himself get beat. Although at first he could tell that things were just gonna bruise, his thoughts take a turn as a rock gets jabbed into face by his eye.

The prince forcefully pushed the male off who just laughed slightly before running back to the north side of the village. As the prince watched his figure fade, he put his hand near his eye by the wound, wincing at the pain, and looked at his fingers. Even if the blood rushing down the side of his face wasn’t enough to prove it, the blood on his fingers did prove that he was bleeding a lot. 

Ditching the thought of getting bread for his friend, he began to head back to the palace. Yes, it was true that he could’ve just gotten him food from the kitchen inside the castle; he was friends with everyone in the castle, but his friend’s mom owned a bakery in the village, and it was his favorite type of bread. He knew that his friend would greatly appreciate one of his mom’s homemade foods over one made by a random castle chef, but that obviously wasn’t going to happen anymore.

Even with the rest of that day going rather smoothly, the scar that had been left on his face was a reminder that no matter how much he tried to make friends with the people of the village, they wanted nothing to do with him. All they wanted from him was his head, and that would follow him for years to come. Whoever would have guessed that all the prince does in the years he should be preparing to be king, he is instead running around, trying to keep his head from being sliced off. 

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