II.

II.

"My son."

 The court was mostly stone and about the same as the rest of the keep. Granite and chiseled stone, high windows, banners of red and blue. It's was a late night in the winter, the prince noticed the heavy snow hitting the glass panes next to tapestries. There were two hearths in the room, it was rather large court, meant for weddings to take place and feasts to be had. A place for disputes between lords to be settled in the most civilized manner, making sure the common people had enough food, enough warmth, where volunteers are conscripted, where footmen are knighted, where new lords pledge their loyalty to the crown. A room, to hold the country together.

 Tonight however, the room was not used for those affairs. Both the hearths are put out with only a few candles lit near the throne. A high black chair made from deep dark oak finish with a leather cushion dyed red. Not the best looking chair, but men don't bow down to wood and leather. They bow to his father, the King of the country, in his tenderly frail age sitting in the chair. His son, the prince wondered why, with no meeting or court active, was his father sitting there this late in the night.

"You've been troubled have you? Come, son."

 His voice, though grown slightly rasp with his age still held the bold tone it carries.

 The king gestured for the young prince, he walked through the court up the wooden steps to his father's throne. Up close, the king seemed more frail than he would show from a distance. His olden eyes had darkened bags with wrinkles across his cheeks and lines on his forehead. His hair, once being a bold black now a flimsy grey-white. Pressed against his hair above his forehead was the crown. A golden band set with big square-cut rubies, a forgotten language that sung a story to be heard is edged in the gold in between each ruby.

 Both of them should be at bed, with the hour this late they should be in their bedgowns and be asleep. Both of them still wore their daily outfits, his father, the king, wore his lordly tunic with a linen vest dyed black and a red velvet cloth wrapping covering left shoulder to his side. He, the prince, wore his lordly tunics as well but a grey dyed vest and no wrapping, he had a short scarlet cape as did his father.

 Unsure on what to say, what could the prince do but stare? He wasn't summoned, only wondering through the halls of the castle when he found his father, also unable to sleep. He sat on his father's lap and rested his head against his chest, hearing his raspy breaths.

"Can't sleep either? Now now... Me neither."

The prince nuzzled himself against his father.

"Father... why are you sitting in the court room?"

"Believe me son, If I had your youth I would be wondering around my castle in the moonlight as well. Alas, god made me live long enough to make these legs painful to use. So I sit here instead. Tell me son, are your sleepless nights caused by the same reasons as mine?"

 The prince couldn't help but rub his eyes and sniffle, he kept his voice as firm as he could.

"I still see them, father. I see them when I try to sleep, and I do not want to see them."

 The father lifted his son's face and embraced him closer to himself.

"Oh... my son. I know too well of these dreams. It's... been a terrible loss, but the way things are, what must be, must be."

"So they died for nothing then?" said the prince.

"We'll never know the true nature of death my son. The world decided to have your brothers taken from us with fever, but now they are at peace, and god has left me with you... My youngest and only, I thank him every day for letting me keep you."

"Perhaps it was the plan all along, fate... god... the world whoever makes the damn choice has their way of having things done. Stand, child."

 The prince stood up from his father's lap, still rubbing his eyes. Finally starting to feel tired.

"Life, will have it's pains. That is god's test to us all. The reason why? We will never know, but know this, son."

 The King, although struggling, pulled himself up from the throne and knelt down to his son's level.

"Life is as fragile as these brittle bones I have, no matter how strong a man is or how deep a trees roots are. Never let what 'seems' or what 'shows' sway your way to doubt and pity. A King should always look forward, with confidence and strength." The king rose and began taking the steps down the court and on his way out the hallway with the prince on his side.

"Heed my words, son, for they are the very same words my father told me. A king who delves himself in self-pity, and melancholy is a king destined to make a wrong choice."

"I tell you this, because I know you will exercise your power with wisdom and understanding. Your brothers were taken from us, and now you’re destined to inherit a power you thought you’d never have. When my days finally come to an end, my son..."

 He stopped walking, the prince found himself next to the door to his chambers.

"...You shall be King."