A Touch of Wonder

Royal

They drag the lonely, broken prince,
His nails digging into the floor as he desperately tries to cling
Onto his past and his everything.
Fling him onto the floor in front of his father,
The Emperor.
But really, his enemy from birth.
Staring ahead, eyes empty, his mouth quivering with withheld anger.
A traitor, they call the prince,
Yet only he knows they are mistaken.
His young child watches from the side as the mother holds him back,
Screaming mercy
For the man who is supposed to support and guide him, to love and cherish him.
But The Emperor has none to give.
None at all.
Only the burning fury that was born from a lie.
It's not just the lie.
It was there all along, the deep despising within his heart from the moment the prince was born,
Knowing that they were enemies.
That outside the palace walls, children are raised with love,
But inside, they are raised with stone-cold, iron-hard brutality,
Toughening their young hearts with the lack of soft feelings they should have.
The Emperor finally stands, turning around to grab the weapon,
A simple bow and arrow.
He turns back around, finally meeting the prince's desperate eyes.
He carefully positions the arrow on the bow,
Pausing for a moment,
Then aiming, pulling the string back as far as it will go.
After a few seconds of eternity, he lets go,
And like lightning, the arrow strikes forward,
Plunging into the prince.
Blood spurts from his mouth, running down his chin and his neck
As he sways a little in the breezeless summer day,
Reliving whatever memory his dying mind is showing him.
Then, a few moments later, his body hits the ground.
A final, foreboding thud that trembles through the entire palace.

Outside of the palace, there is love.
Inside, there is a hidden loneliness.
A darkness that is always brewing,
A sorrow that always lingers.