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Summary
“This was ours,” he says, his voice low and demanding. Had he always been oppressive? It’s hard to tell. Some parts of him, perhaps, but never the whole - but what had wholeness meant when he was made with dotted lines along which the universe was instructed to cut? The Prince as he is and the prince by his side were moulded into the shape of something real from the same cloth, but hollow beneath it. There is a destiny at play, and he has known that for a while, now. “Still is, if you’re looking at it from my view. Which you will, someday. It was supposed to be ours, in the roundabout nature that most things are for me now.”
There is quiet from the young prince.
(Or: Dirk and Ultimate Dirk have a little chat.)