so youâre a prince, and no one has ever loved you. never. they care about you, sure, but they donât care about you. they care about who you are, the son of the king, the heir to the throne. no one has ever told you no or extended more than courtesy because your station overpowers every other thing about you and you are not a man, you are royalty. and then a clumsy, angry, sharp tongued peasant boy comes into your life and becomes your servant and he doesnât care that youâre a prince. he yells at you and laughs with you and he will walk into the fires of hell with you, for you, not because you are his superior but because you are his friend and he loves you.
and you spend ten years by his side, and you become a king, and you do not doubt his loyalty for one moment. everyone in your life turns their back on you, betrays you, uses you for their own agenda, and the only thing he ever wants is for you to be safe. he never asks for you to love him as much as he loves you, but you do. and even when you are on your deathbed, and he is telling you that he has magic and he has lied to you every single day for ten straight years, you arenât angry. youâre hurt. because you think that for all his talk of loyalty, heâs been using you. you were his pawn in a plan you do not fully understand and do not want to understand because it hurts too much.
you are dying, and you know you are dying, but he is telling you that you will not die because he will not let you. and you have stopped believing every word he says as you once did but you humor him and you let him drag you for miles, for days, no matter how much it hurts and no matter how much you want to give up, because you love him still.Â
and finally you ask him why he lied for so long, because you cannot die not knowing. and he confesses that it wasnât about power or comfort or money, but you. he didnât want to hurt you by telling you the truth. he didnât want to make you choose, between him and everything you knew. and the only other option was to not be in your life at all. so he lied. because all he ever wanted was you. you, the man, not the prince then and not the king now.
when you succumb to your wounds and you cannot go on, you make one final request of him. you ask of him something you would not ever ask for if you were not delirious from your pain and your injuries. but as you humored him, he humors you.
and as you take your final breaths, you are held by the first person who ever loved you.
titsay
gummygunk
2087
discoholicmusic
