The prince

Chapter 22

The life of a man crown king was short. Wither they reigning ruler continue to serve his people for a year or 100 years. Their life of a free man ends the same. 

For the moment the crown is placed upon the head of he who shall rule. He who kneels before his kingdom for them to later bend the knee in return. He lowered himself to the ground before the high scepter as a man, but once crown, and again standing to his feet. He is no longer a he, it is no longer a man, but a king.

Great power? The prince of flame country who wishes to sit on the throne is but a fool. A child blinding by shining diamonds and stones that glitter.  The crown was heavy, ugly. Nothing more than an overbearing jewel. The throne was made of thorns. Sharp nails and fangs in the form of the memory of those who processed it. Those who ruled and died, those who failed and died. Those like his own father. 

Before him stood not a sea a loyal servants, but an ocean of judging eyes, lips that move as quick as lighting to speak of his flaws. Point fingers amongst friends and laugh at his shortcomings.

To his left, a wife which was forced upon him. Whose love had never reached him and whose words were as sweet as scorpion poison. To his right the heir that will succeed him. The one who had been groom from birth to take his place. Ironically, much like he himself, Victor did not long for the throne. Why would he? Why would anyone? 

A king is not a man, but a chest piece in fancy clothing. His father was a king, his father died a king. But Hanry forever remained a man.

The crown on his head, the throne beneath his arse. Though he had at some point kneeled before the kingdom of earth, he did not swear his service, and they did not bend the knee before him.

He need not their loyalty, he had his wife's money. And with said coins of silver and gold, he held their dignity, their envy, and livelihood.

He need not bother with those who point the finger and mock his bulging stomach, aging face or ile decision as their ruler. He was not their ruler. He didn't resent himself as their provider. He was merely a man who sat on the throne.

A man who was born into a role he did not want, a role he accepted and followed in order to continue to live the life he always had.

He slept with whoever, say whatever. Instead of being at the service of the people. The people served him, wither it be at his feet or in his bed. Not even the wife who despised him could refuse him. Was that not a better life than that of a king? Was that not more appealing then serving one's nation? Giving thoughts, sleep, coins and honor for those he knew nothing about and yet, whose misery and complaints he was forced to shoulder? 

This was power! Power he took not from the throne and the title as king but through it. Power even a fool foretells would cost him his head.

But he lay amongst of his whores, pleasured in his harem. A harlot riding on his cock while another licked at his balls. Hanry thought not of his death, not of the kingdom or his thrones. He thought of his life, shutting his eyes with the envy filed gaze of men who wish to take his place looking after him. 

Meanwhile, like a thief in the night. The crown prince of Earth racked a closed fist against a wooden door, waking lovers from their slumber.

"What plan have you got in mind?" He asked the prince of flames. His eyes locked with emeralds though they find themselves every, every so often, drawn to his brother. Nude and wrapped in beddings, sitting against the headboard with his knee pulled to his chest. His cheeks red with a hint of embarrassment. His hair was tossed and tangle as were the ember locks of the crown prince that sat before Victor. Shamelessly relaxed despite wearing nothing but his trousers. Looking quite warm despite his bare torso and the night air.

"First we must strike a deal," Nathanael spoke, successfully drawing Victor's adventurous eyes. "When You are King," He began. "You must give me your word that the land promise by your father would be mine."

"Certainly" Victor agreed. He had the intention of doing that on his own. H will soon be the newly crown king of the broken kingdom of earth. He'd be burden by the image of his father's deeds. The country of flame would be a useful and powerful ally. One that would not only keep his kingdom from collapsing from within itself, but it will keep foreign threats at bay.

"I would also like few hundred bars of gold" Nathanael adds. Before Victor would resound, Gael made a sound that drew Nathanael's attention. Seconds after, the crown prince corrected himself. "A hundred bars of gold"

Victor looked from Gael to Nathanael and cleared his throat. He'd missed the entire interaction and Gael's dark eyes gave as much as Nathanael's stoic green gaze. 

"We have to spare," Victor once again agreed. "Will that is all?" He pressed, wanting to get to the reason he was visiting his father's enemy in the death of night. He needed to get this done, less he changed his mind under weakened resolved. 

"No." Nathanael voiced, leaning in to further close the distance between the two future rulers. Victor steeled himself, refusing the instinct to redraw and reestablish their earlier distance. "Gael goes free" He finally demanded. His gaze hard and unchanging. 

Victor glanced over to his shocked and staring brother. They shared gaze for a moment and in the next, Victor was once again held captive by emeralds.

"As your betrothed?" He wondered.

"As your prince by practice." Nathanael clarified "Don't strip him of his title, only his duties"

Once again, Victor looked towards his brother. Returning his attention to Nathanael soon after.

"You wish for me to let him rome free?" He questioned, his tone bothered on bewilderment and confusion. Gael was Nathanael's claim to his throne in the land of fire. His path to the crown he so passionately desired. And yet, Victor was being told to free Gael from the duty that would ultimately give Nathanael what he'd always wanted? 

"Consider his service to this kingdom paid in full" Nathanael confirmed.

"It would seem I've misjudged you" Victor admitted after a minute or two of silence. With a sigh he ran his fingers through his hair and agreed. "Very well, you have my word"

"Good," Nathanael breath out, leaning back in his seat as he absently pushed a with a sheet of paper and the necessities towards his newly formed ally. "Put it in writing" He ordered, keeping watch as Victor began to do just so. 

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