Little Begotten Prince

I just edited this. I read this and I don't know what I was thinking with some of the language I used and how I wrote the dialogue before. 2016.

 

 

      Down a road less traveled an up heaved castle sits on a lonely hill overlooking a landscape of plush fir trees, mixed with a touch of maple.  There a story unfolded which led some say to the ruin of a kingdom, others say the freedom of an oppressed people.  When the castle was young, it housed kings, queens, dignitaries, and all their jesters and politicians.  It was a place beloved, hated, aspired to rule over, and utterly coveted by anyone rich enough to claim a hold in society’s deeper circles.  What changed it all?  The birth of a prince and a series of events which Lady Luck herself would not have the fortune of copying twice over. 

      Atop the tallest tower, where the air blows sweetest and the richest die to gain access came the cry of a baby, not just any baby, but the cry of an infant whose destiny intertwined with the land deeper then the blood through his tiny veins.  At birth he had a full head of hair, cute dimples, a nose with a deep red spot on the point, and the strength of ten men; well perhaps not yet, but he will.  Despite his awesome attributes, he was another unwanted baby.  See, females were the prime choice of the day and another male in the litter just wouldn't do.  It is said that the princess that night died of heart break as she had had fifteen sons, and nigh a daughter.  This made the queen ever more vicious to him then she was to any of his fourteen brothers.  He spent hours on end scrubbing the stables, saddling the horses, shoveling snow, mending fences, and shining the king’s boots and the queen’s silver.  Ezik had quite a challenge keeping up with the chores and constantly found himself in trouble with the queen. 

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      Ezik grew into a fine lad.  At the age of thirteen he championed the castles annual yard games.  He could beat anyone at pole fighting, outrun the quickest runner, jump the largest puddle without making a splash, and take down ten people single handedly in a game of ‘tug of war’.  His brothers envied him, except the eldest. 

        “Look here pip squeak, you better stay out of my way next year or you will be toast,” Oliver the eldest said to his youngest brother Ezik.

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      Closing in on eighteen, Ezik had to watch his back.  Ezik had beat Oliver at every turn.  Effectively embarrassing the first in line for the crown at every chance he had got.  It wasn't even hard, as Oliver refused to spend time practicing or studying, in fact Oliver was so lazy that he would send others in his place to practice and would later take credit for their accomplishments.  After all, it was his money which allowed them to promote their skills, so therefore, it was his feat of strength, wit, or agility not theirs.  But eventually, even Ezik crossed the line.  It was Oliver’s twenty seventh birthday, and the king and queen had planned a special party for Oliver to officially announce their intent for him to inherit the crown. 

      Just before dawn of the upcoming party, Oliver decided to take a bath in the quiet of the tallest tower.  Moments before Oliver’s dip into the sweet aroma of the bubbles flowing over the brim of the brass footed tub Ezik had slipped in to the bathroom.  Unbeknownst to Oliver, Ezik poured purple dye into the water, gave it a quick stir and quickly clambered out the window and began to scale the tower wall. 

      Oliver enjoyed, even lavished that bath.  The dye made the water have a slight tingle which mingled his senses with pleasure.  Sighing, he lowered himself all the way under the water, pushing back up only when the last bit of breath had left his lungs.  He felt amazing.  The chamber man entered the bathroom holding a towel on his arm for the prince.  He turned politely, not noticing his liege’s condition.  Oliver took the towel without even a thank you and made way for his bedroom ignoring the mirror.  He hadn't time to fuss, he had a chamber maid which would make such a big deal of his hair, he was sure it would be in perfect order by the time he was summoned to court. 

      He dressed and sat in his favorite chair to tie his boots.  Then, he rang the bell for his chamber maid to join him.  He didn't look up to greet her, but the dropping of the silver tray which carried his expensive hygiene items clanging in the room startled him enough to give a rare glance at his servant. 

        “Be careful Sally, those are expensive.  Unless you want them taken out of your salary,” Oliver scolded.  But, before he had a chance to continue berating her, she broke out into a insane fit of laughter.  “How dare you laugh at me, I will have you flogged,” despite his threats, she couldn't contain herself.  In a fit of rage he stood, gripping the chair tightly, “now look here… guards,” he commanded!

     “Your face, me lord... your face,” is all she said before she was roughly grabbed by two guards who once they had looked at their liege almost dropped their pole arms.  They began to laugh as well. They let go of the servant, who now realizing her predicament turned and ran down the hall, nearly knocking one of the butlers over on her way down the hall.

      “How dare you laugh at me,” said Oliver enraged!  That’s when he turned and noticed the purple reflection staring at him back through one of his wall mirrors.  He put his hand to his face, “who did this,” he screamed in fright and anger, “who dare do this to me; I will kill the person who did this.” 

    Then the laugh from the doorway came.  Oliver’s eyes met Ezik’s; Ezik saluted Oliver and then ran down the hall.  Oliver grabbed a sword from an empty suit of armor’s grasp and began to give chase. 

      The chase lasted for a good hour.  Ezik always giving Oliver the last minute slip on purpose began to laugh and tease Oliver.  At times when Ezik was close, Oliver would swing his sword, often just barely missing Ezik, one time getting a good swipe of Ezik’s tunic.  In due time Oliver’s strength began to fail, winded and embarrassed he slumped on the stairs as Ezik ran on.  Once at the top, Ezik shouted down, “what’s wrong, have I just defeated the soon to be king in battle, oh the horrors!”  Ezik laughed it up, “I’m sure to be champion now, I just defeated the king single handily without even swinging a sword.”

       Oliver’s eyes bulged and his face flushed with rage.  Staggering to his feet, Oliver began to make his way up the stairs, grabbing a spear from one of the guards standing by he threw it hard at Ezik, missing his target but hitting a torch.  The torch rolled out the window, high above the stable’s hay thatched roof, landing with a explosion of sparks as the dry grass instantaneously caught blaze. 

     “Fire in the courtyard, fire in the court yard,” the yells came from below.

      The yells of panic reached both Oliver and Ezik at the same time, instantly forgetting their sibling rivalry they ran to the window where sure enough the stables were already ablaze and the fire threatening the north tower where they were.  Looking at each other, they dropped their weapons and began to run down the stairwell toward the court yard.

      In moments the north tower was ablaze and soon the castle walls.  The mortar gave way and the stones began to crumble and fall onto helpless victims who were trying to fight the blaze to no avail.  Night came and went, and the fire still burned.  A day and a few hours since their fight began; hundreds were wound, thirteen dead, and the queen catatonic of broken heart.

To be continued with a better ending.