The Prince Who Had No Choice

We reached the back of the gardens soon enough, away from the prying eyes of the children and the grown-ups. Lukas was fidgeting like crazy though, and I was getting worried. On one hand, I didn't want to make a literal child so uncomfortable but on the other I had to get him on Forte's side as early as I could. It was better to be childhood friends with a soon to be girl-obsessed maestro than to be cast aside by him.

Even though Lukas was indeed written as an absolute creep in the book, he had power. Also, if I could prevent even just a bit of his eventual downfall into creepiness I'd try my best. Like Forte's case, I'd forever hold sympathy for those subject to the poor parenting of the characters in the story.

I had an inkling in me, anyways, that Forte wouldn't be interested in Lukas romantically either. He definitely wasn't her type, she much preferred the kind of personality the first prince of Soleil had. If I remembered correctly, the first prince was a distant man with an air of mystique. He had sharp red eyes that seemed to be able to cut through any lie. Forte had such high hopes for him, aside from being enamored by his power and wealth she did hope that by being his wife she would be able to expose the darkness of some nobility.

Especially the rampant child abuse.

She wanted nothing more than to please her parents even if they hurt her, she truly just wanted a family - even children. Out of all the scenes in that novel, there was only one time the prince had ever caught a glimpse of her - the real Forte, beneath all her grandstanding and hatred.

It was on the day of her execution, when he had asked her why she thought she'd ever be able to be his wife. A scene that was only available in that retelling of the novel from Forte's perspective.

"Was it my money, was it my power?" he had sneered at her, staring her down in her cell like she was a rat in the sewers. "Was I just some handsome man you thought you could sink your claws into?"

Forte, who had no longer seen any point in lying anymore, answered, "It was, and you... you were."

"So you admit to your shallow views?"

"I was shallow, I still am. But that wasn't just it," she said. "I wanted your power so I could reveal the crimes of parents as cruel as mine, the pain they would put their children through. For what, even? To either be wed away and used for their own gains or risk being put to death like this? To spend forever being hurt? You were my way out, my prince. You were the only way I could leave."

Taking in her words, the prince's eyes had widened at this, "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Do I have any other reason to lie?" she laughed, "I will be put to death in an hour from now. I'd rather not spend more time lying to just add weight to my shackles. Not when I know I'm guaranteed for hell, even if life itself has been hell for me."

The prince, who had hated her from the beginning, felt his chest constrict painfully. He had not known what happened to her and he still could not trust her, but to think she had been pushed this far… he thought of himself, too. How he had to fight tooth and nail to even be wed to his beloved, how she was a mere commoner and he was the prince. How much his own parents had hurt him.

"That wouldn't be fair to me, would it?" he said, balling his hands into tight fists. "I'm a person as much as I'm a prince, I'm more than an escape route."

"I know you are," Forte whispered as her eyes filled with tears. Now, unable to look at him in his eyes, she pressed her forehead to the ground and wept. "I know you are. But this wasn't fair to me either, was it?"

A moment of silence passed as Forte's beaten body began to quiver. The bruises on her, the lashes on her back, and the raw skin on her wrists which had been bound since the night before taking its toll on her.

"Was it fair, my prince?"

"Lady Forte?" A voice asked, breaking me from my reverie.

I looked to my right and was met by Lukas' confused expression. We were both sitting underneath a tree at that point, surrounded by the grass and the wide expanse of roses, sunflowers, and hydrangeas.

"Oh. I'm sorry, I was just thinking."

"May I ask about what?"

I smiled kindly, "Just remembering a sad story I read before."

"You read sad stories too?" he asked, wide-eyed.

I cocked my head to the side, taking note of this. "Yes, well, once before - do you read them often?"

"I do!" he nodded furiously, "They're my favorite things to read and I - oh, you probably think it's weird, don't you?"

"I do," I said, seeing no need to lie. "But I read them too, so I guess we're both weird."

Lukas frowned, having tried to reach into his pocket but stopped short when he heard me say we were both weird.

Taking note, I figured it was because Lukas didn't like being called weird. Especially with his unnatural talent with music, his highly introverted disposition, and the neglect. There were so many reasons he would be labeled as weird, but truth be told I never saw any of it as being bad. It was only bad whenever he would try hurting himself or someone else, but so long as no harm was done being weird was never bad.

"You don't like being called weird?" I asked.

"No." he said, "I thought you'd be different."

I looked at him oddly, "Why would I be different?"

"Because you're… you're just as odd as I am, aren't you?" he said. "I thought you out of anyone would understand why we read sad stories. Especially as kids, I know that's weird. The others call me macabre - but I thought you'd think of that as normal."

"I read sad stories because my parents hate me. I need an escape, a way to cry." I said, my first statement a half-lie, "And I don't care what anyone thinks of me for reading sad stories. Weird has never been an insult. You're taking it as an insult, aren't you?"

"Why don't you think it's an insult?"

"Because my intelligence is more important, people think a lot of things about me - but my mind overrules the rest." I said, "The same way your talent in music is something you should never be ashamed of."

He blinked at me in surprise, "My… music?"

"You don't think I saw you scribbling at your table? I've heard the rumors, I saw you compose - what was that again… around page three right? That thing you were writing was the third page to a composition. I'd have offered you proper paper to write, but you crumpled it all up. I guessed you didn't want to write more in front of people." I shrugged, "No kid can make music like you, all they know is manners, curtsies, and how to gossip."

Lukas stared at me with a conflicted look on his face, "You are very blunt."

"Glad you noticed," I said. "I hate all the running around in circles when talking in social gatherings. If they want to say they hate my guts or my family name, just say that instead of asking how my 'progress on history classes' is going or how my 'failed test' went. Which is why I say to you, your music is good - you've got a lot of potential. Why don't you flaunt it?"

"No one has time for my music." he mumbled.

"Because your parents won't listen to you?" I said, "Not everyone is your parent, Lukas. Do I look like your mother to you?"

"No…?"

"Do I sound like your mother?"

He smiled at that, like it was something funny. "Definitely not."

I arched an eyebrow at him, "Now you smile? Out with it then, what do I sound like if not your mother?"

Lukas hummed, deep in thought, "Like a twittering bird, the kind that sits outside of my window that won't stop picking the glass till I let it in."

"Oh." I said and gently nudged his shoulder, mirroring his smile. "Oh so that's it?"

"A pretty bluebird, at least. Maybe a songbird, if you can sing my composition." he laughed gently, procuring the crumpled paper from his pockets.

I looked at the paper weirdly, then at Lukas.

"Lukas, I can't read music notes."

"Oh, the great and intelligent Forte can't read music notes? The same girl who shares the same name of the musical dynamic 'Fortissimo'?"

"Oh, the great future maestro Lukas who shares the same name as Soleil's great and brave King, yet lacks in bravery himself? Who crumpled his composition paper when a pretty girl approached his table?"

"You are as annoying as you are blunt, it seems."

"A very unique way of saying my wit is as sharp as my mind," I laughed. "Why don't you sing me that composition, Lukas? I'd like to hear your music very much, if you still aren't shy that is."

"I am not shy!"

"Sure." I smiled, "Sing, then."

Sucking in a breath, Lukas began to sing his melody. His voice was like the feeling of mist descending upon the Earth, the way it cloaked meadows in dew and mystique. It was airy and delicate, perfect for the gentle tune to have written. So gentle it was that it nearly lulled me to sleep, and I probably would've fallen asleep if it weren't for a child falling out of the tree we were underneath.

Lukas and I both yelped in surprise, tucking our legs underneath us as we backed up as far as we could against the tree. A strange boy had fallen before us, but I was sure he wasn't one of my family's gardener's kids. Not with his dark purple coat, not with the golden embellishments and definitely not with the velvet material it was made of.

"W-who are you?" Lukas asked, fearful. "Wait - are you alright?"

The boy before us only moaned in agony, barely able to move.

"Lukas," I said, urgent. "Help me turn the boy around, he might have sprained something."

The two of us gently rolled the boy to his back, with Lukas doing most of the rolling while I suspended his neck and head safely in my hands.

I'm pretty sure the two of us immediately stilled the moment his face was revealed though. The first thought that came to my mind was that he had a pretty face, which is probably why Lukas was openly staring at him. But for me, I recognised his face as more than pretty - this was the face of the first prince of Soleil.

This was prince Vincent, the man who had sentenced Forte to death. And he had fallen out of a tree in her parent's gardens with a bloody (and possibly broken) nose.