Thread: The Prince's Plight

Lox sat staring at the piano for a while without moving, his left arm aching terribly from the speed at which he had to move to play as intently as he wanted to, and yet for all his effort and intensity he felt simply drained after. Rising slowly, Lox moved to the bed and laid down with a deep sigh as he looked out into the afternoon sky with longing. He loved the view of the garden, but it made him ache to be back home in his own villa and tend to his beloved gardens. Already he missed being able to take his leisure in his home and tend the delicate herbal plants and flowers, then moving out to the fields where he would break his back with the rest of his servants to care for the crops. It was considered obscene for a nobleman to do such a thing as heavy labor, but Lox could see the contentment that farmers had after a long day and when the crops were brought in. But more so than anything was the way they looked out at the growing field and knew without a doubt that with their sweat, blood, tears, and the toil of their hands made everything growing possible. It was that pride that drove Lox to learn so many different trades even though it seemed strange for a prince to indulge in. His father gave him nothing to be proud of, only insult after insult as his first memories were of his father leading him to a piano surrounded by little noble girls and telling him to learn how to play, that way he could teach his better sons a mans skills and not worry about him. Looking back at the piano he remembered playing for the first time in his own court and showing his people a fervor they didn't believe existed outside of combat. And so it went his father would throw other instruments at his feet and bade him learn, he had no time to teach him a mans way. It continued until there weren't any instruments in the castle left he couldn't play. In a blind rage his father ordered him viciously beaten, but as he recovered he remembered his first touch of rage and madness as he learned from the guards, mercenaries, and visiting soldiers of dignitaries every art of war he could master. There came a day when he played before the court again and was called an inbred by one of the court noble's son and good for nothing else than playing music for entertainment. This was when Lox first challenged and beaten a man to death with his bear fists against an armed opponent, being known forever in his own kingdom as the mad prince after the manner he fought. Everyday since though it seemed he did nothing but fight for every ounce of pride he owned, destroyed every single opponent who ever stood against him to prove his superiority, and made sure no one would ever think to insult him again yet here he was suffering an insult that he didn't think he could recover from. Why had his father cared enough to try and get him back? It would have been so much easier if he had simply died but looking back at his life he had to fight so hard for that pride only to have all of it snatched away by some filthy whore in a fluke of fate. What did his father want with him? To humiliate him again in court at how he was always right? At long last fatigue claimed Lox as he fell asleep into uneasy dreams, and all the while he slept his body stirred and strange words in his own language floated from his lips as he cursed, grunted, and squirmed in the grip of his nightmares. Even rest held no peace for him.