Dark Prince
001
Ash
Life is stupid.
It must be, because here I am, at a club, alone. Atlantis is it's name. The whole place actually kind of looked like something from the old, royal days of Alcezar, with it's ivory walls covered in delicate gold moldings. They were beautiful, typically exquisite.
There was a larger dining room filled with velvet-draped tables and booths, as well as a lounge and bar area where people could mingle. Late in the evening, a band would set up in there, and couples would hit the dance floor.
It was hard for an eighteen-year-old boy to blend into a place like this. Especially one of the city’s most elite clubs. To everyone, I definitely look, seem, and talk like I'm eighteen. But that's not the case. It never was. To me it feels like a hidden identity.
My name is Ashtian, Prince Ashtian. I go by Ash now.
I have jet black hair, and piercing icy blue eyes.
I was born and raised in Alcezar, and often miss it. A medieval time. Despite presumptions to the contrary, the daily life of men and women in late medieval was not entirely one of toil. As a child, I took delight in playing hide-and-seek, follow-the-leader, and blind mans bluff. As I grew, I would hunt and race with horses. I sighed. But a lot of things has changed since then.
Over the ages, people have changed and rebuilt the world. No more courts, and long green landscapes. No more royal balls, chariot racing, naive princesses, and most of all magic. Luckily for me, my castle stayed, and unfortunately the only one left. I kept it safe and hidden deep in a forest, surrounded by hundreds of trees. It's just not a place for me anymore. Not a home, and no longer where I belong. No one remembers it, but me. And it stays with me for as long as I live. For as long as I have this curse that keeps me alive.
When you live forever, and have nothing to live for. What do you do? I have no point, no importance, no reason, and no value. I am nothing. Crowds grew larger as the night progressed. I finally gave up and started to leave. I had no purpose to be there. I gathered my coat and set some cash on the table. I peered at the packed tables as I made my way through the people lingering at the bar. What I saw was happiness, but I couldn't be sure. I only looked, I wasn't really seeing. All I saw were blurs of unfamiliar faces, and laughing. I heard lots of laughing. Laughing is something I couldn't comprehend. To me, it feels like poison. But it's not like I care or anything, I'll only be back tomorrow night.
I left the Atlantis with that same nonchalant air I had inside, heading out toward one of the busy streets. It was a Saturday night, and there were lots of other clubs and restaurants nearby. Partygoers filled the streets, some dressed as richly as the Atlantis' patrons; others were my age and dressed in casual wear. Lines spilled out of the clubs, dance music loud and heavy with bass. Glass-fronted restaurants showed elegant diners and richly set tables.
I turned down a quiet street that was a shortcut back to my hotel. I observed my surroundings, something I usually do when walking home. Or close to a home. The hotel was a temporary one.
The pavement was cold and sleeked with water. It had rained earlier in the day. But other than that, it was it's usual self; dirty and full of litter. So was the whole city, but I couldn't complain. Once in my room, I fell to the bed and instantly went into deep sleep. So I dreamed. Those dreams that are always different, always changing.
Life is stupid.
It must be, because here I am, at a club, alone. Atlantis is it's name. The whole place actually kind of looked like something from the old, royal days of Alcezar, with it's ivory walls covered in delicate gold moldings. They were beautiful, typically exquisite.
There was a larger dining room filled with velvet-draped tables and booths, as well as a lounge and bar area where people could mingle. Late in the evening, a band would set up in there, and couples would hit the dance floor.
It was hard for an eighteen-year-old boy to blend into a place like this. Especially one of the city’s most elite clubs. To everyone, I definitely look, seem, and talk like I'm eighteen. But that's not the case. It never was. To me it feels like a hidden identity.
My name is Ashtian, Prince Ashtian. I go by Ash now.
I have jet black hair, and piercing icy blue eyes.
I was born and raised in Alcezar, and often miss it. A medieval time. Despite presumptions to the contrary, the daily life of men and women in late medieval was not entirely one of toil. As a child, I took delight in playing hide-and-seek, follow-the-leader, and blind mans bluff. As I grew, I would hunt and race with horses. I sighed. But a lot of things has changed since then.
Over the ages, people have changed and rebuilt the world. No more courts, and long green landscapes. No more royal balls, chariot racing, naive princesses, and most of all magic. Luckily for me, my castle stayed, and unfortunately the only one left. I kept it safe and hidden deep in a forest, surrounded by hundreds of trees. It's just not a place for me anymore. Not a home, and no longer where I belong. No one remembers it, but me. And it stays with me for as long as I live. For as long as I have this curse that keeps me alive.
When you live forever, and have nothing to live for. What do you do? I have no point, no importance, no reason, and no value. I am nothing. Crowds grew larger as the night progressed. I finally gave up and started to leave. I had no purpose to be there. I gathered my coat and set some cash on the table. I peered at the packed tables as I made my way through the people lingering at the bar. What I saw was happiness, but I couldn't be sure. I only looked, I wasn't really seeing. All I saw were blurs of unfamiliar faces, and laughing. I heard lots of laughing. Laughing is something I couldn't comprehend. To me, it feels like poison. But it's not like I care or anything, I'll only be back tomorrow night.
I left the Atlantis with that same nonchalant air I had inside, heading out toward one of the busy streets. It was a Saturday night, and there were lots of other clubs and restaurants nearby. Partygoers filled the streets, some dressed as richly as the Atlantis' patrons; others were my age and dressed in casual wear. Lines spilled out of the clubs, dance music loud and heavy with bass. Glass-fronted restaurants showed elegant diners and richly set tables.
I turned down a quiet street that was a shortcut back to my hotel. I observed my surroundings, something I usually do when walking home. Or close to a home. The hotel was a temporary one.
The pavement was cold and sleeked with water. It had rained earlier in the day. But other than that, it was it's usual self; dirty and full of litter. So was the whole city, but I couldn't complain. Once in my room, I fell to the bed and instantly went into deep sleep. So I dreamed. Those dreams that are always different, always changing.
~
The day began as any other day, my castle seeming like any other castle, surrounded by a heavy forest like that of the deepest, darkest jungles, until I came upon my front door. From the outside I never would have guessed anything out of the ordinary to the average eye. Upon opening, but not to my surprise or my suspicion, I found my old home ten times larger. I found myself walking about my castle as if nothing extraordinary had occurred. As I proceeded I saw myself, but as a baby. I was in a crib, surrounded by white frills and cotton. Having the crib handmade of course. It was made by one of my father's blacksmiths; Beau, but that was during the time they were friends. A feeling of sadness swept over me. That's an issue I didn't want to think about.
I look back at my infant self, and see, really see me. My eyes sweep over the curve of my once small baby chin, leading up to my small mouth and button nose, then to the darks of my hair making my face look so pale than it actually was, to finally my eyes. And I look at those eyes. My once startlingly blue lively eyes. Eyes that looked so happy and innocent then, but sad now. I see my father enter the room, and wonder why immediately.
Back then, men weren't supposed to be in the nursery. Not to be sexist. And it's not anything degrading. It's just that, the men, and especially the king didn't want to be around their children then they were so young. They only saw them once after they were born and again as they grew from child years. Then they would raise them. I know my mother died of childbirth, but there should at least be a woman in that room! My father should be nowhere near me.
After that thought, an old woman appeared as well. But she wasn't wearing white, like a nurse. She was wearing dark clothing that looked black from where I was standing. They were talking, saying words, but I couldn't hear a thing. I looked back and forth, I saw my father, the look of strength and security so familiar to me growing up; was gone. Instead replaced with sorrow and fear. I looked at the woman, a face of determination and cruelty. That woman is a witch! Now I'm not sure if this is a memory, or a dream.
If I am about to find out the truth of what really happened, because she must be, has to be the one who cursed me. My father walks closer to the witch, me in his arms, wrapped in cloths, and blankets. My heart is pounding so hard, I'm so sure they could hear it, even though I know they can't see or hear me. Wanting to know what happened next. But before anything happens, before I could do anything, the dream disappears, flying away from my grasp. I try to catch it, take it back and replay it, but it's too far. I can't. I feel like crying, I feel like dying. Why? I was so close to knowing! Now, I'm left alone, again, surrounded by only darkness.
I look back at my infant self, and see, really see me. My eyes sweep over the curve of my once small baby chin, leading up to my small mouth and button nose, then to the darks of my hair making my face look so pale than it actually was, to finally my eyes. And I look at those eyes. My once startlingly blue lively eyes. Eyes that looked so happy and innocent then, but sad now. I see my father enter the room, and wonder why immediately.
Back then, men weren't supposed to be in the nursery. Not to be sexist. And it's not anything degrading. It's just that, the men, and especially the king didn't want to be around their children then they were so young. They only saw them once after they were born and again as they grew from child years. Then they would raise them. I know my mother died of childbirth, but there should at least be a woman in that room! My father should be nowhere near me.
After that thought, an old woman appeared as well. But she wasn't wearing white, like a nurse. She was wearing dark clothing that looked black from where I was standing. They were talking, saying words, but I couldn't hear a thing. I looked back and forth, I saw my father, the look of strength and security so familiar to me growing up; was gone. Instead replaced with sorrow and fear. I looked at the woman, a face of determination and cruelty. That woman is a witch! Now I'm not sure if this is a memory, or a dream.
If I am about to find out the truth of what really happened, because she must be, has to be the one who cursed me. My father walks closer to the witch, me in his arms, wrapped in cloths, and blankets. My heart is pounding so hard, I'm so sure they could hear it, even though I know they can't see or hear me. Wanting to know what happened next. But before anything happens, before I could do anything, the dream disappears, flying away from my grasp. I try to catch it, take it back and replay it, but it's too far. I can't. I feel like crying, I feel like dying. Why? I was so close to knowing! Now, I'm left alone, again, surrounded by only darkness.
♠ ♠ ♠
I'm FluffeeWrites, and I will be
writing the perspective of Ashtian (aka Ash)
Hope you Enjoy! :)
Don't forget to comment on how
you like/dislike the story.
Constructive Commenting is fine.
I love hearing feedback! :)
No silent readers in the midst ;)
And thank you! :)
writing the perspective of Ashtian (aka Ash)
Hope you Enjoy! :)
Don't forget to comment on how
you like/dislike the story.
Constructive Commenting is fine.
I love hearing feedback! :)
No silent readers in the midst ;)
And thank you! :)