the lady & her prince, penelope featherington

002

. . . THE LADY & HER PRINCE
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"I do not wish to go," His small and chubby hands stretched forward to grasp at his Mother's, and she did not object, for her child was frightened even before her sleep had been interrupted by a calling that alerted her. "They want me to go, but I must sleep."

Her other hand touched his forehead, intending on pushing back the dark grown curls that were messily everywhere from his previous sleep, but then he leaped from her grip, not needing to budge his way from her arms for she let him go so he could push himself forward.

"They wish for me to climb to them, but I cannot, it is not possible," His eyes wildly looked for the window, which it's curtains weren't drawn closed and therefore he could see beyond the glass and into the darkness.

Queen Charlotte followed his gaze, but her expressive eyes were more concerned than hazed, for she could not see whatever it was that her youngest child could apparently see. "What is it that you must climb, Charles?" She slowly scooted forward to him, "And who?"

"Look," The boy jumped off his silk sheets of the large bed just as Queen Charlotte had managed to sit by him again, and instead he stepped closer to the window, his warm fingers pressing against the cold glass, the only thing separating him from what it was that he could see that his Mother could not. "The sky wants me to climb to the stars but I cannot. I have to sleep."

"Then you may sleep," Charlotte reassured her son the best she could, the way she'd done since he'd been experiencing these. . . episodes. And ever since, she wasn't sure for certain what age he'd been, she had treated him with the same care as she did her husband. For it was clear they were something of the same mind and that realisation terrified her more than anything else. "Wouldn't you like to —"

"If I did climb, I couldn't find what I must," Charles was a small, sensitive boy and he always had been. That was a given, being the youngest of many elder siblings, and at the back of the brood, never really being heard for the rest spoke louder. More clearer. A frown was on his face as he tapped his fingers against the glass, "There are many stars in the sky. I would get lost."

Standing up, the woman pressed one hand against the wall as she neared the window, keeping her voice soft so he remained with her, "Then I shall climb to the stars with you so you stay on path," Her other hand hovered over her left hip.

"Only I have an invite," Charles whispers, not removing his stare from outside. "But. . . yes, Mama. So we can climb. Do you think that would be alright?" He turned his head and stared up toward her, unblinking for a mere moment, "For the sky to have two guests?"

He was so like his Father, her husband, that her other hand, shaky as it was, rested on the back of the boy's hair as she leaned closer. "It would be more than alright with the sky," She felt his nod as she saw it. "But perhaps another night, Charles. When you have rested plenty."

But Charles did not agree. He stayed by the window, head now against the glass and distanced from his Mother's hand's touch.

Charlotte's heart shattered there and then, as the. . . problem festered and there was nothing she could do.

She could not save her husband from his madness.

She could not save her son from the same fate.

"What is this madness?"

The use of that dreadful word, something that itched at the innocent youth of his being, made the boy sat in the middle of the mess flinch as he turned, eyes wide at the sight of his Mother strolling into his bed chambers without her announcement of doing so beforehand.