The Happy Prince

Uncovering the Truth

Another day, another time to get up to some mischief. 

First, it was stealing tonight's dessert from the palace kitchens, Chef Ferard's famous Cherry Moon Pie. Delicious. Although it was cool how no one noticed the whole heist in progress, it would've been more fun if we were caught. 

Next, we attempted to see how many bedsheets it would take to climb down from the top floor. We were almost finished but sadly, Millie caught us before we could begin testing the stability of our rope. The current record is 57. 

By evening we were craving for action. Sword practice was all good, but I just didn't feel up to the task. I still felt so boyish holding that heavy sword in my clammy, white hands, whilst Donovan was already getting into the swing of things, parrying and thrusting and lunging. His shoulders were already beginning to broaden, his calves were becoming more defined. 

"Don't worry, lad," said a reassuring Jan with a rough pat on the shoulder. "Yer time will come." 

I looked away in embarrassment. He must have seen my envious looks when Donovan made a perfect attempt on a move that I had just failed miserably due to the lanky state of my legs. 

Now we were strolling about the Royal Gardens, doing nothing in particular, talking about nothing in particular. 

"Do you think that I'll make a good king?"

The question popped out of nowhere.

There was a brief pause before Donovan asked, "What do you mean? I think that you'll be a great king. I mean, you have your father and the tutors to help you." 

I shook my head. "That's the thing. I don't want to be like my father." As soon as the words came out, I instantly regretted it.

Donovan looked taken aback. "Why not? Your father is a great king!" 

"Are you just saying that to be polite, or is this your genuine opinion?" I tested, glancing at him from the corner of my eye.

He calmly shook his head. 

"No, it is my honest opinion and there is nothing else to say."

"How would you define a 'good' king?" I prodded, curious of his response. 

"I don't know..." scratching the back of his neck in thought, " I guess since we're on the topic, let's take your father as an example. Look at all the stuff that he has done for the kingdom. He's fought in dozens of wars to protect this kingdom, risked his life to make peace treaties with the neighbouring lands and has caused this land to prosper with all the finest produce being exported out of the lands for generous prices."

"Huh," was all I could say, biting my cheek in contemplation. Still, that couldn't be it.

We were now approaching the wall. How many times was it, that we had attempted to climb it? We had tried anything, everything. Ropes, ladders, pole vaults. It seemed as if the whole of nature was against us in this forlorn quest of ours. Even a little peep would have satisfied our curiosity at this point. But I had a feeling I almost had it this time.

The evening sunset had cast a cold shadow over the whole garden. A soft breeze that had snaked its way through the trees sent a small shiver down my spine. I looked longingly up at the wall, trying my best to imagine what was on the other side. 

"Let's go back inside," Donovan cut in. "It's getting kinda cold, and I think dinner will be ready soon." 

I rolled my eyes. Of course, Donovan had the appetite of a wildfire.

"Yeah, sure."

One day, I told myself, one day.

***

It was supposed to be a normal, lighthearted walk to the dining room. We were supposed to pass the throne room as if nothing was happening inside. The doors were meant to be sealed shut. One of Father's many rules was " You must never enter the throne room unless announced."

I had never broken it once. Not because I was afraid. But because there had never been a way. 

Until today, that is. 

Naturally, we snuck behind the slightly ajar entrance with anticipation. 

"My Lord, I beg of you!" a man's trembling voice implored.

"Silence!" came Father's booming voice, "I have made my decision, and your request has been rejected. You are now dismissed."

"With all due respect, Your Highness, I believe you have hardly given my father a chance to speak." This voice was different. Unlike any other I have ever heard. It was higher pitched and had a smoother tone, yet there was a firm and fiery quality to it that I couldn't put my finger on. 

"All we simply ask is that you provide us with the bare minimum that will last us for the winter. Our supply has been destroyed and your people are desperate for food and defences." 

I slowly peeked over the edge of the door to see who this curious little creature was that had dared to talk back to only the greatest of kings in perhaps, the whole universe.

"And who are you?" my father began slowly, as he paced towards the curiously brave creature. 

It was a girl. 

Her tangled light hair with flecks of gold reflecting the filtered sunlight. Her garments were well-worn. Hands at her sides, balled into fists. Bare feet that were well-travelled.

I recognised her. She was a servant girl who worked in the kitchens. I had hardly ever taken any notice of her for she was of the lowest status.  

"My name is Renna of Thurn." 

"And what makes you think, Renna of Thurn, that I have the means and resources to supply you with, what you call, the bare minimum?" the king inquired.

Renna sighed. "Pray my lord may not be angry when I tell him that it is he that passed the law that seven-tenths of the produce harvested be given to you. Many think that my lord is asking too much from the commoners than they can supply for both my lord and their families."

"Enough!" roared the king, making me jolt up with a start. "Such are the sacrifices that must be made by the kingdom for the kingdom. If any peasant dares to question my authority in such a manner, he is to think twice about whether he wishes to enter the Rest." 

The man bowing his head, rested a hand on his daughter's shoulder in a motion to leave. 

"No, you cannot do this!" Renna shrugged off the hand and stepped towards the king. "Your people need you!"

"Guards! Take them away!" ordered the king.

Two guards came from behind and began escorting them by force.

"My lord, I beg of you!" Renna cried, resisting. "Your people will not last the winter!" 

But the king had turned his face away.

I heard the two heavy throne room doors shut, Renna's pleading cries still echoing against the stone walls. 

Was I not supposed to feel something? I tried my very hardest, closing my eyes and searching deep within me for an emotion that felt right. But all I could feel was laughter, joy and happiness. 

I grew weary of it.