The Prince, The Gangster, The Teacher, And The Poet (Sander Sides Fanfic)

Chapter Twenty One-The Stars

TW: Ranting about your lot in life, not feeling good, slight Roman angst before major Logince fluff, LOGAN IS A STARGAZER CHANGE MY MIND YOU CAN'T, accidentally coming out as trans to someone? Shorter chapter this time, I kind of ran out of things to say XD

"I still refuse to believe that you're telling me the truth about those stories," Roman grumbled, arms folded.

"Roman, I assure you, these are the stories that everyone has heard from childhood." Logan was obviously tired of this conversation, but Roman was not about to back down.

"Why would they do that, though? Why would they change it?" He threw up his hands. "I don't get it!"

"Wouldn't they want you to think princes and kings were always good?" Virgil interjected, and Roman paused.

"I... ugh! That sucks!" Roman hissed. "I hate royalty."

"You are royalty." Patton pointed out, and Roman resited to say something along the lines of 'Exactly'

"It's been two days, Roman. You cannot keep bringing it up."

"I was robbed, Logan. Robbed! They stole the original stories from me and replaced them with some weird hybrid!" Logan rolled his eyes, but Roman knew that look. He wasn't annoyed, not really, just playing up the part because it gave something for Roman to push back against. He was grateful for it, more than Logan could ever know.

"You also got extra stories, which was fun!" Patton added. "Like Mulan!" Roman paused before reluctantly nodding.

"Yeah... still. Being born royal made it so I didn't get the originals when other people did!." Roman folded his arms.

"And being born a royal also gave you access to education, privilege, the ability to buy basically whatever you want, and pretty much anything else you could possibly dream of." Virgil wasn't looking at Roman directly, and he got the feeling that there was something else going on here. 

"Yes, but being born a royal, and not just any royal, the oldest son of the king, means I can't choose anything!" Roman wasn't supposed to talk about this, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. It was bad, to complain about his lot in life. He knew he was lucky, that he had food and water and siblings and tutors and really anything he wanted. Whenever he asked someone to jump they would ask how high. It was just... too much of it and not enough of what he actually wanted.

"So?" Virgil shrugged. "If other people chose everything for me, but I could live in a huge castle with servants and stuff, I'd gladly take that deal."

"I wouldn't." Roman folded his arms. "It sounds like a shit deal."

"Language," Patton corrected.

"Sorry, Pat." Roman turned back to Virgil. "But it's not just... they make all the decisions someone is supposed to make. Where you go, what you do, how you're dressed, what you say, how you say it, but you're supposed to make all the hard decisions!" Roman almost forgot the other three were there, he was just so... angry. He hadn't told any of this to anyone before, but it always pissed him off, the way the other people always expected him to be perfect. He wasn't perfect. He didn't know what was best for the world yet, he had barely touched the world.

"You're supposed to make the decisions that could keep people from eating. Whether to keep a guarding system that hurts people for absolutely no reason or replace it with something that would make half the country so mad they might rebel. You can't help anyone! Because everyone always thinks you're trying to help yourself, and you aren't! But they don't trust you, because why would they? You don't know anything about the world because of stupid laws that say you aren't legally allowed to leave the grounds of your house for sixteen years! And even then, you're expected to be followed by two 500-ton armored and trained fighters, just in case someone looks at you the wrong way!" Virgil was looking at Roman with concern, but Roman was far from done.