The Lonely Prince

The Throne

The next morning, Charlie was woken by the familiar sound of crows cawing, and the uninviting cold of the September weather. His eyes slowly opened, looking outside to the cold, foggy weather. „..Just like the usual.." he groaned softly, before getting up from the bed. He couldn't have been bothered to change clothes yesterday, no one would care anyway. No one but him alone was in this lonely Castle, trapped in this cold, crooked and husked village. The thousands of shining gems and riches merely serving as distractions, slowly fading to black and white. Loosing all sense of Entertainment. Of value. Of wealth. He exited his chamber, and went on to wander the endlessly stretching halls. His eyes wandered among the old paintings, now only serving to collect dust instead of showing a once majestic picture. „..Nothings new.. everything is the same.." he'd murmur quietly to himself, as he went toward the throne room. Once there, he'd slump down onto the throne, his head resting against the back of the chair, pondering of how to continue with this everyday life cycle. This town. It was entirely empty. This Castle. It was entirely empty. And yet, it had fooled him for so long. Longer then it should have. It served as a mere distraction from the cold, uncaring world. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to be a leader. He never was, and never would've been. Who was ever ready to take matters in their own hands with no one to help them? No body. „..Why did they leave me so quickly..?" he'd ponder to himself. He'd remember his mothers words. Everything would be fine.. right..? He'd think. But he knew, there was a deeper meaning to this. This jewel filled prison, serving as a mere vessel. He got up, off of the throne, looking outside the big window, into the fogged courtyard. Nothing. No guard. No knight. Nobody. He stepped back, and layed down on the giant red carpet leading to the throne, staring up at the ceiling. His crown rolled off of his head, stopping as it made contact with the edge of the carpet. „Is this.. is this what loneliness is like..?" He'd ask himself as he thought about the current predicament he found himself in, with no one to accompany him but his own thoughts. „This.. emptiness.. it feels so familiar.." And Familiar, it was. Countless years had passed. This feeling was all to known by him. He slowly rose to his feet, looking outside into the mist once more. He'd slowly exit the gate of the castle, returning to the crow infested streets, to be casted judgement onto. He'd explore a while, his imagination running wild with what things might have happened in these small vessels his people called homes. He'd roam, and roam, stopping at the blacksmith's small shop. He'd remember the first time he stumbled upon the humble man here, sharpening and forging blades for knights and kings. Strong blades had been made here. He'd look at the anvil, and its used state.. each contact with metal on metal was sure to leave behind a spot. It's usage telling many stories. „Oh, how I miss him.. He was such a nice guy.." he'd say as he'd trace his finger across the cold metal, feeling nothing.
The more he wandered along the streets, he felt himself hollow out more and more. He soon wandered circles,