The Prince Ch 08

Knowing that you care for someone is the first step in beginning to love them. The realization that they are important to you and that you wish to see them happy is the beginning. The journey from here can often be fraught with peril and great challenges. Something will always get in the way of you being with any person that you care about, but it is when you choose to take control and to overcome these obstacles that a greater bond is formed. There are many hurdles that must be conquered for love to exist and this is one of the very first that Amber and the Prince will have to emerge victorious from. Enjoy...

*

A man stood outside the king's chambers and watched, unnoticed, as the Prince departed. It was not surprising that his presence was not marked by the Prince. Very few people noticed him when he did not want to be noticed. He had arrived at the palace a few days earlier, but the job that he had undertaken was not the one that he currently dressed for. He was dressed as a butler.

The man quickly began walking away from king's chambers and headed towards a room a few corridors away. He then quickly changed out of his uniform and into ordinary clothing and grabbed a piece of parchment that he had specifically left out. He exited the room as promptly as he had entered it and headed directly toward the servants' quarters. Once there, he saw one of the maids walking past and call out to her, "Excuse me, miss."

She stopped walking and abruptly turned to face him. "Yes?" she queried somewhat hesitantly.

"I was just wondering if you knew where I could find my uniform?" She continued staring at him as he paused, awaiting a reply. Seeing that the question had confused her, he continued, "You see, I am a new gardener who is supposed to work here and I have no idea where it is that I am supposed to go to get it."

"Get what?"

"A gardener's uniform of course."

"Oh! I'm terribly sorry. I thought that you were accusing me of taking your uniform," she said, as her face turned a light shade of red.

"That's quite all right. I suppose I did ask that rather ambiguously," he began, taking greater note of the girl in front of him. She had light brown hair and deep green eyes. He had always had a weakness for green eyes.

It took them both a moment to notice that their conversation had paused unconcluded. They were standing there looking at each other. She noticed first and averting her eyes, she quickly said, "The uniform room is down the hall," pointing toward the right and continuing, "Take the third left and then it should be on your right."

"Ah, well thank you, Miss...?"

"Bristow. Miss Marissa Bristow."

"Thank you very kindly, Miss Bristow," he said in a smooth and low voice. He gently stuck out his right hand, which she slowly clasped. He grasped her hand softly and placed his left hand on the other side of it and said, "I hope that we shall meet again soon."

He then let go and began to walk away. Marissa stood there a bit stunned for a moment, feeling the rush of heat in her cheeks. But before he managed to get far away she cried after him, "Wait!"

He stopped in his tracks and turned back to look at her. "Yes?"

"It is customary upon hearing a lady's name to tell your own," she declared.

He smiled broadly as he looked back at her and then said quite simply, "My name is Dante D'artagne, and I would never mean to offend you Miss Bristow." Upon saying that he tipped the wide brimmed hat that he was wearing and bowed slowly and deeply toward her. He then picked himself back up and headed in the direction that she had instructed.

It did not take him long to arrive at the room and upon entering he was greeted by a man sitting behind a desk quickly scribbling notes down. "What is it you need?"

"I am supposed to begin work today as a new gardener and was instructed to find a fitting uniform here."

The man behind the desk had an unpleasant and unhappy look about him--a look that only comes from decades of scorning the majority of the world and disliking most everything in it. It obviously irritated him to have anyone interrupt him from his work, as it took him a long time to finally ask, "Do you have proof of your employment?"

Dante then grabbed the note that he had taken from his room and gave it to the man, saying, "Yes, here it is."

The man stopped writing and took a moment to look over the note, and then for the first time looked up at Dante. "Do you know what it is that you have been hired for?"

Dante looked at him in confusion, "I believe so, yes."

"You mean to say that you know that you are going to be working in the Prince's garden?"

"Well, that is what the note says, does it not?"

The man then began laughing loudly and obnoxiously. He did not stop.

"Is there something that I am missing?" Dante asked over the laughter.

"Do you mean to say that you do not know?" he asked, regaining some of his previous severe demeanor. "Well you are in for a wonderful surprise. Here, let me grab you your clothing and tools."

The man left the room and Dante reflected on the man's mirth. It surprised him that someone could enjoy the prospect of someone else suffering as much as he seemed to. Dante knew full well that the Prince was notoriously cruel to those who worked under him, but that had not deterred him from the course that he was set upon.

His job was to observe the Prince as often as he possibly could. He was not to be caught, for if he was he would find no support from the man who had hired him. The king's emissary had made that perfectly clear when they had first met and the job was first proposed.

The man reentered the room still chuckling to himself, "One hell of a surprise, that's what you're in for."

"You make it sound as though I'm walking into a trap," Dante stated.

"Well that's just the thing now isn't it. Someone has pulled a number on you if I do say so meself."

Dante looked at him quizzically. "Is there something I should be afraid of?"

The man turned to him and gave him a toothy grin, "Only if you have half a brain." He then lifted up Dante's equipment and said, "This is what you will be needing. Well this and a few other things I'm sure you'll learn quick enough..."

Dante eyed him warily, but took everything he needed and turned to leave the room, not wanting to be with the man any longer.

It did not take him long to change into the new uniform and to put on the tool belt. He then headed toward the garden holding the same note that he had shown the man to get his equipment. It did not take him long to spot the man that was obviously in charge. After introductions were made, Dante quickly handed the note to the head gardener.

The head gardener, Thomas, scratched his head initially when he read the note. "I wonder who thought it would be funny to give you

this

job."

"I heard someone else say something along those lines. What exactly is it that makes this job so obviously loathsome?"

"No one has told you?" Tom asked, obviously perturbed.

"I can't say that anyone has," Dante said plainly.

"Well, there are quite a few stories I could tell you, but to put it simply he is a terrorizing man."

"What do you mean?"

Tom looked at him impatiently. "I don't really have time to fully explain, but I suggest doing your absolute best at all times, because he does not tolerate any form of incompetence."

"I'll keep that in mind. However, to be honest, I am just glad to have it for I have had difficulty finding consistent work of late,"

"Well, you may not say that after having to deal with

him

," Tom said, gesturing with his eyes towards the house, "but then again, he doesn't usually say much to us. He hardly seems to notice men in our employment as a matter of fact. Which is a good thing as far as I'm concerned. All that I recommend is that you do your job to the best of your ability and keep your head low. I assure you that you do not want to meet

that

man's ire."

"Thank you for the warning. I shall do my best to be as unnoticeable as possible," Dante said in earnest.

Tom then went through his instructions to Dante and showed him the grounds, explaining what needed to be done in the area that he would be responsible for. Following the instruction Tom informed Dante that he would check up on him occasionally and ensure that the work was being done up to par.

Dante settled into the work easily and became as innocuous as the plants that he was tending to. Nothing eventful happened that day other than a few staff members comings and goings and the Prince's return later in the evening. Dante marked each of the staff members' faces and decided that he would find a way to speak to each of them at a later time to see if he could learn anything new about the Prince.

* * *

The day had been long and tedious. The Prince had read and analyzed dozens of reports, made recommendations, and met with various ambassadors from around the kingdom. All of the reports that people brought with them were complaints and demands that the king remedy each of them. Some of these complaints were reasonable, others were not.

The Prince could not help but to sympathize with those who were over taxed and were only requesting some level of reprieve from the extra burden upon them. He would have done more than sympathize had he the authority to, but the power of government was most definitely not yet his to wield. This fact frustrated him to a certain extent, but not as large a one as it used to.

He had always loved having the ability to control and shape his own life and all of the things in it, this much was beyond question. In the past when he had seen the incompetency of those around him he had thought that the world would be better when he gained control, as he would then be able to make people live better and more productive lives. His mother had been the one to show him the error in his thinking.

It had been many years ago, and the Prince could not have been more than ten when he had spoken to her on this issue. He had said, after a long day of contemplation and thought, "I cannot wait until I am king."

His mother had looked somewhat surprised upon hearing this, but asked in a calm level tone, "What makes you say that?"

"I will be the greatest ruler there ever was and I will clean up all the mistakes that past kings have made. I understand so much more than they did. I am capable of so much and will be able to create a world in which the greatest of things will be achieved!" he stated with a rising passion in his voice.

At this point his mother smiled at him. It was a smile that he would never fail to recognize again. It was a smile of understanding. "And how, may I ask, my mighty king, do you plan on creating this great world?"

"Simple. I shall find and gather all of the greatest minds together and we shall decide what is best for the people. We shall look at every great problem facing our society and find solutions for them. The whole kingdom will be put in motion towards the great goals of great men."

"That most certainly is an admirable and noble goal. But, I wonder," she said looking off in to the distance, "what is the purpose of a king?"

"That's easy-- the purpose of a king is to do whatever is best for his country."

"And what is best for the country?"

His words died as they tried to leave his throat. She had asked the right question and he thought that the answer should be obvious, but when he had tried to say it he realized that the answer was not as clear as he had initially thought. "I suppose that what is best for the country would be whatever is the best for the people that live in it."

"Do you think that having the most brilliant men dictating to the masses would be the best thing for the people that live in this country?"

Her point was made in such a way as to be completely undeniable. "No, I do not," he said, feeling ashamed that he had spoken his previous words.

"Before you start feeling depressed I have a question for you that you are going to have to answer one day. I do not know the answer to it and I honestly have not met anyone that has found that answer, but you will have to find it." Her words ended on a distant note.

"What is the question?" he asked with a hint of confusion and excitement in his voice.

"What is it that would be the best thing for the people living in this country? That is the question that you must answer when you become king and you must not forget it. If you do, you would become a tyrant as many kings and rulers before you have become. This is the mistake that all of them have made and I do not wish you to fall into the trap that the power your position will present to you," she said, as she looked at her son with the love that only a mother can give.

"I won't fail," he said with the fiery passion that he had been born with.

He could not remember what had happened next, but that was unimportant. The Prince had never forgotten this lesson and in the years to come occasionally his mind would turn back to it to try to find a solution. Today his mind had turned to it once again as he sat, sipping on a brandy in his favorite chair, thinking about what he had discovered so far.

The Prince had learned that there are trials in life that everyone must face and that it is how you face them that ultimately defines you. He had always believed that the greatest trial in his life would be finding a way to solve the riddle of what he was to do with his power after his father's death or abdication. It would have to be very different from anything that had ever been done, that much was certain.

He knew that he could never take full power of the monarchy. He would never be able to relinquish it if he did and that would turn him into a tyrant. The power of the monarch would have to be divided, that much was certain, but how it must be divided eluded him. He did not want to see that power fall into the wrong hands and create another form of tyranny.

A new division of power was necessary, but was that enough? Even if power was divided and splintered to the point that it was extremely difficult for any one person to gain power, would that stop tyranny from forming? He asked himself these questions and came up with the simple answer of "no." However, this answer only led to more questions.

These questions led to a possible solution to stop tyranny. The idea entailed having something similar to the philosopher kings from Plato's

Republic

who would watch over the new form of government and prevent tyranny from being enacted. This train of thought then led to asking a question that he had never forgotten: "Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?" Or, "Who will guard the guards themselves?"

This question was a philosophical one that attacked very precept of the idea of having noble guardians watch over a society. The meaning of the question was what will prevent the guardians of society from turning upon it. Every time he thought he had grasped a solution to how the kingdom would be best ruled, he always came back to this question. The question left him with a sense of futility as he knew that he would be one of the best guardians that could exist, but he also knew that he was not incorruptible.

There had to be some form of a guard that would prevent the government from becoming corrupt and tyrannical. However, the guard would need to be immutable and immortal. The Prince knew that no man or group of men could exist that would be the type of guardian that he required. There had to be some other solution and he felt as if it was staring him in the face and he merely could not see it.

He set down his glass of brandy in frustration. He sat there staring at it for a moment as if it would somehow give him the solution to the problem that he was confronted with. His eyes bored into it deeper and deeper and all at once it hit him. The solution that he had found was not the one that he had been initially searching for, but it was an important one none the less.

The color of the small amount of liquid still in the glass was amber. It was almost as though she were here with him this night, speaking to him, telling him her secrets. The glass that sat on the table and the liquid it contained held a power over him just as she did and it was the same type of power. The brandy held no power over him that he did not grant. If he chose not to imbibe it, the brandy would not affect him in any way

The only way that the brandy could gain power over him was if he chose to drink it. Being with Amber was much the same. The power that she held over him was a power that he gave to her, not one that she took from him. He gave her power over him because of what he saw in her, the beauty that she contained.

The dinner that they had together had been designed to allow him to gain an understanding of Amber and potentially why she had power over him. Or at least that was what he had convinced himself at the time, but after he had kissed her while lying on that bed and the way they had fucked that night left him with the knowledge that he was not being nearly as dominating as he had been telling himself. He knew now that the real reason that he had dinner with her was because of the fact that she was slowly, but surely, gaining his respect with each day. He had wanted to speak to her and he had enjoyed it.

After speaking to her he had seen that her beauty extended inwards as well as outwards. No one in his life thus far had held the purity that she did. He felt that he could never corrupt that purity and that he would likely kill any man who tried. Upon realizing this, it became obvious to him that he wanted to and would always do his best to protect her.

This fact bound them together in a sense. Even though he currently seemingly held all of the power, their fates and their lives had become intertwined and separating himself from her would no longer be as simple as it once had been. He already had control of her and now he wanted to protect her. He no longer could let her go.

He realized that he wished that she was here tonight. His body craved hers. Despite this, he would not go to her now. His desire for her was strong, but not enough to break him and send him running after her. He could be patient when he needed to be and on this night that is exactly what he would do. They would meet the next day and he would have his way with her on that night.

* * *

Amber had gone to bed the previous night feeling that same pain that she had all day. The feeling that she did not belong here, with him, was a crushing and painful weight upon her. It had been a restless night and when she awoke the next morning she did not feel any better than she had the previous day. She was tired and she could feel the rings under her eyes. There was very little motivation for her to move and she would have greatly preferred lying there feeling as though she may die than get up from the spot.

The only thing that kept her from doing that was that she did not want to worry or concern Marissa. It was her own problem and she would deal with it without placing a burden on anyone else. She dressed for the day much like a zombie would, feeling and thinking nothing, simply going through the motions required of her. Her breakfast went much the same, with the exception that she pretended to be at least somewhat happy.

At some point during breakfast Amber heard Marissa start speaking about a man that she had met the other day. "He was very charming and, dare I say it, very handsome."

"What did he look like?" Amber asked, knowing this was required of her.

"Well, he was tall and had dark, nearly black, curly hair. He was wearing rather plain clothing other than a superfluously wide brimmed hat."

"Did he give you his name?"

"Yes, he did, but I nearly had to beat it out of him," Marissa said matter-of-factly.