Work Text:
"Run boy, run!"
The young men yelled, as they kicked and spat.
His parents often told him.
'Stay in the castle' they would tell him 'don't leave the city'.
Maybe he should have listened.
Maybe they would have noticed that he hadn't listened,
if only they weren't constantly so busy with each other.
"Run to Mama, child!" laughing, as the young prince stumbled, trying to get to his feet.
Out here it didn't matter who he was.
Not important if his parents wore golden crowns or ragged clothes.
"RUN!" the voices sounded angry now.
And run, he did.
He ran and ran,
until the world around him turned blurry,
until his lungs burned to bad, fresh tears mixed with the old, blood still steaming down the side of his face.
His fear didn't fade,
not when he ran through the big gate to the castle
Not when he saw his mother looking at him, in a mix of confusion, and worry, and annoyance.
Standing next to a few nobles, chattering.
He ran right past them.
The boy searched for the dark eyes, that used to haunt him when he tried to sleep, or play, or do anything else.
He found them, and they were already fixed on him. As always.
His fear vanished.
Got replaced by the ever so unsettling felling he felt around the sorceress.
It made him feel tired.
But he was scared no more.
"My my, your majesty, what happened to you? This is no way to face others my prince! Let's get you cleaned up." She sounded cold and harsh, as always.
He took her hand, and suddenly felt the pain on his forehead.
One of the stones the men threw must have hit harder than he thought.
He started sobbing, again.
"Quiet, your majesty. Have you forgotten what I told you?"
The prince looked up at her face, unreadable as usual.
"Don't show your weakness you majesty. You must never show your weakness, not show your uncertainty. Don't show them that you're vulnerable."
He couldn't bear to look her in the eyes.
He really wanted to do what she told him to. Wanted to show her he could.
wanted to make her proud.
But he couldn't. Not yet.
So he didn't say anything. Tried to suppress his weeping
"I'll take care of your wound, Radovid." Her grip on his little hand tightened.