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servestheking
Thursday, 24 April 2014 19:34[it took six months, at least that is what he calculated left with only sunrise and sunset to view from the window of his room in the palace (his prison), for him to finally break down. to do as his father expected. to submit to this living death he was forced to endure, and produce an heir with lucinda.
her love had long since died in the face of his coldness. of his inability to look at her with anything resembling the emotion. his love had died with joseph. if anything other could have kindled it, that person was far from the kingdom, and possibly dead in a ditch in gath. if he wasn't, then his father would have his head by any means necessary. his sister was gone, banished by their mother for reasons unknown to him, but he wasn't privy to the goings on in the palace anymore.
but she wished to be free of him, and the only way to earn as much was to present an heir. eventually, she was found to be pregnant (he won't forget his father's snide comments about him actually having it in him), and they took her from his too warm prison. he was more at ease in her absence than when she was there.
he hoped, in vain, that his father might decide to finally ease his suffering. give him some measure of peace, but he could afford no such bold move with the people still willing to rend him apart at any moment. he went through his days mindlessly.
his mother must have begged on his behalf for some kindness, and they began to escort him out to an undisclosed location in the country. it wasn't far from the border of gath, but they had nothing to worry over here. at first he thought, with foolish hope, that his execution had finally come. but no, they took him to a small farm and a field where he could "enjoy the country air" or some such ridiculous thing.
it took time, but he managed to coerce an old pastime to be allowed by one of his guards. he took up his bow again, like he did when he was younger, and set up a target in the tall grass. when they would take him out to the country, his own personal exile now that he was no longer needed to produce an heir, he would pass the time at the tip of an arrow. at the tensing of a bowstring. at the brush of a feather against his cheek.
he had no idea that his location had been discovered. or of who it was that watched him while the guards bemoaned their duty of babysitter of a royal prisoner and traitor.
after letting go all of his arrows, he lowered the bow as the sun began to set, and headed out towards the target to gather up those he had let loose.]
her love had long since died in the face of his coldness. of his inability to look at her with anything resembling the emotion. his love had died with joseph. if anything other could have kindled it, that person was far from the kingdom, and possibly dead in a ditch in gath. if he wasn't, then his father would have his head by any means necessary. his sister was gone, banished by their mother for reasons unknown to him, but he wasn't privy to the goings on in the palace anymore.
but she wished to be free of him, and the only way to earn as much was to present an heir. eventually, she was found to be pregnant (he won't forget his father's snide comments about him actually having it in him), and they took her from his too warm prison. he was more at ease in her absence than when she was there.
he hoped, in vain, that his father might decide to finally ease his suffering. give him some measure of peace, but he could afford no such bold move with the people still willing to rend him apart at any moment. he went through his days mindlessly.
his mother must have begged on his behalf for some kindness, and they began to escort him out to an undisclosed location in the country. it wasn't far from the border of gath, but they had nothing to worry over here. at first he thought, with foolish hope, that his execution had finally come. but no, they took him to a small farm and a field where he could "enjoy the country air" or some such ridiculous thing.
it took time, but he managed to coerce an old pastime to be allowed by one of his guards. he took up his bow again, like he did when he was younger, and set up a target in the tall grass. when they would take him out to the country, his own personal exile now that he was no longer needed to produce an heir, he would pass the time at the tip of an arrow. at the tensing of a bowstring. at the brush of a feather against his cheek.
he had no idea that his location had been discovered. or of who it was that watched him while the guards bemoaned their duty of babysitter of a royal prisoner and traitor.
after letting go all of his arrows, he lowered the bow as the sun began to set, and headed out towards the target to gather up those he had let loose.]
