Prince Donavin slipped into the kitchens once again to see about sneaking some dinner before his evening punishment. He knew he could prolong it longer if he had Dinner with his family but that just seemed like extra punishment right now. He dreaded seeing his mother because she would be so upset, and he'd just feel even more guilty about running away.
"Careful now, if the staff sees you in here too often, they'll mistake you for a servant boy." The baker joked as he prepared the kitchen for the next morning.
He smiled. "That might not be so bad, I'd rather sweep the storerooms than the crypts any day," he said.
"Jeepers sounds like he already has," one of the young kitchen boys said then ducked his head and rushed out with his hand over his mouth. Probably afraid he'd get into trouble.
Donavin just chuckled quietly and ate quickly. Then he began his dreaded trek to the crypts. He entered the hallway that led to the spiral staircase his brother liked to call 'the entrance to the underworld' and that's exactly what it felt like to Donavin.
The entrance was guarded on either side by large, cat-like creatures, the guardians of the dead. Thiers slitted eyes seemed to follow him as he grabbed a sconce from a steel basket on the wall and a clay jug of oil to refill any lanterns that may be low. The last thing he wanted was to be three stories underground in a maze full of dead bodies when the lights died out. He lit his torch with flint and steel after just a few tries, it was always embarrassing and frustrating when it took too long. He skittered past the creepy statues into the spiraling darkness that was the Crypts.
The fire illuminated the area around him but the curving stone stairs disappeared into darkness ahead of him and as he went deeper, farther away from the entrance, the darkness closed in behind him as well. Down here every little sound was made loud by the echoes and silence. His feet shuffling against the stone steps seemed loud. He could even hear the fire on his torch swishing in the breeze that sometimes sounded like whispers. He rushed the rest of the way lighting the other sconces along the walls as he went. This way anyone that walked by would know someone was down there.
His flame flickered with the rush of wind he'd caused and he forced himself to slow down least his light burn out. Technically all he'd have to do is go back to the last wall sconce he lit and light it again but... it was still terrifying. He took a few deep breaths to try and slow his racing heart. It only worked a little, but a little was better than not working at all.
Three stories under the castle's main floor he reached the bottom. The circle of light from his torch illuminated the arched entryway decorated with skulls and bones; just to make it more creepy he guessed. He lit the first two sconces on either side then walked threw into the great maze crypts of kings past. A chill ran up his spine making his hairs stand on end. He walked to the first hanging lantern in the middle of the walkway and lit it, the first tombs flared into existence around him as the fire spread its light, chasing away the darkness but the shadows lingered at the edge of stone tombs and along the walls.
he was supposed to light the lanterns as he went about cleaning so as not to waste the oil, but the dark seemed much more ominous and scary down here and he quickly rushed from lantern to lantern lighting them all before locating the broom and a polishing rag. He began sweeping trying not to jump every time the shadows moved as flames flickered in the lanterns. He was rushing threw his chore not caring much if he missed a little dirt; he could get it next time. After all, he would be down here every night for a month.
"There you are" the words had him jumping out of his skin, fear clouding over everything as he spun around. His mother's face smiled at him; in the glow of the lanterns, even her soft caring face was given creepy shadows.
"I was disappointed I didn't see you at dinner. I was so worried about you the last two days, you should have come to me immediately when you returned."
"I'm sorry mother, I just didn't know what to say, I knew you'd be disappointed in me again and I'm sorry," he said his princely composure crumbling in the face of his mother's sad expression.
"Right or wrong, you can always talk to me and I'll always listen. I hate to think you can't come to talk to me. What made you do it? Why were you gone so long my love? What kept you from coming back?" she asked embracing him in a big hug.
"I can't always hide behind you or have you fight my battles, it makes me weak; and I need to be strong."
"Oh love, who told you that nonsense?" she sighed her arms still locked around him not willing to let him go just yet; and honestly he didn't want her to so, he remained still.
"It is never week for a man to confide in someone, and not all battles can be fought alone. It's just as important for a man to find the people that lend him strength as it is to learn to wield that strength. Those that forgo the wisdom of their elders out of fear of needing wisdom are foolish."
"I'm sorry mom, I just needed to get away. Sometimes everything just feels like too much."
"I know, and I'm sorry, the weight of responsibility is a heavy burden. The fact you feel that burdon means you are wise and just, only the foolhardy and power-hungry don't feel the crushing weight, and they make terrible rulers because they can not think of the people first. This feeling of guilt you have, that's not a bad thing, it simply means you have a heart and it is trying to guide you to what is right by steering you away from what is wrong."
"How can it guide me when it only tells me that what I have done is wrong?"
"Now that is a good question. Let me see... your uncle often says pain is weakness leaving the body, which I still claim is not always true but to think along those lines guilt is like evil leaving the heart. it is painful but it will make you a stronger better person if you acknowledge it rather than ignore it."
"why does living have to be so painful?"
without the pain we can't appreciate the peace, without the dark we don't appreciate the light."
he definitely appreciated the lanterns more down here in the utter darkness than he did even outside at night, so he guessed that made sense and he nodded his understanding.
"Tell me what's been bothering you, love?"
"I don't think I'll ever be good enough to be a prince."
"humm... you will be a prince no matter what you do or how well you do it. However, if you want to know a secret," and she leaned close and whispered "no one is good enough to lead on their own. Not me, not your father, no one. No one can know all the answers to every problem or lead all the people all the time. That is why we have advisors, a good leader needs to listen to advice from experts, the wants and needs of the people, and those that lead before us. no one is expected to be perfect or do everything on their own, not even a prince not even a king, look around the palace, there are people running about everywhere, and they all play a part in making this kingdom run, and all of them depend on others to get their jobs done."
"I know, or kind of, but why can't I just be a regular kid sometimes?"
"I don't understand you will always be a prince, it is who you are."
"I love your wisdom, and I appreciate my training and studies, but can't I have some time to just be myself, maybe even spend time playing with a friend?"
"We could probably schedule some more playdates with some of the noble kids your age."
"No that's not what I mean, that's not fun, I still have to constantly try to be better than I am, and I never know who I can trust."
"Then what do you mean?"
"Well, I met a commoner when I ran away, they didn't have a clue who I was and we had fun."
"Oh, love..."
Desperate he tried to explain. "It was like they were the light in my darkness. I felt free to talk about or do things I never could here." his mom gave him a sad look and he quickly added "It's not that I don't like talking to you, I do. And you give great advice but sometimes I don't want advice, I just want... a break.
"A break from everything and no offense but you always give advice, it's just what you do. You know everything, and it just reminds me how little I know. I take lessons all day every day and after, you give me more. And don't stop, because yours are often better than the scholar's lessons... but still, sometimes I just need time... Time with no expectations. Maybe I'm just not as strong as everyone else and can't just push threw it all but, well I can't." he said defeatedly.
"And I know I should not feel at all proud of running away, but I did, kind of. Parts anyway. It was the first time I succeeded at anything on my own, it felt good to beat the guard even if it was at hiding. And I had a lot of fun playing with my new friend... do you think I could go visit after my punishment is over?"
"Well, that is a lot to think about. I am not sure how you could visit a commoner when you are not supposed to leave the castle grounds without a guard and that would certainly attract attention."
"What if I can never talk to them again? it was so nice having someone I could talk to freely with."
"Well... even with them you can't tell everything, or they would know who you are and some of the problems you will want to talk about will have to do with who you are. And if you don't feel you can talk to me and have no one else you're comfortable with talk to the dead."
"What?" he drew back to look at her better shocked.
"They can't tell anyone what you said but sometimes they are good listeners and won't give you unwanted advice but sometimes when the need is great they do find ways to answer it you ask them.
"But they are dead?" then he superstitiously glanced around worried he might have angered them. Then he whispered, "But... they are scary I do not want ghosts talking back."
"There is nothing to fear from the dead, only the living. The dead have already left behind their worldly attachments including things like anger and vengeance, so you don't have to fear retaliation. If nothing else talking out loud will fill the silence and give you piece to think on your own and they cannot share what you have said with the living so you can just be yourself.
"I am glad you were alright and even had fun, but never worry me like that again please."
"Alright, mother."
"You only have about an hour more, then you can get ready for bed, don't worry about putting out the lamps tonight, your father will be coming down to inspect your work later, he can do that."
"Thank you mother," he said and she gave him another big hug as they said their goodbyes and he got back to work and he did try talking to the dead. it was awkward at first but it did make it less creepy like he was a guest rather than an intruder. when he had trouble staying awake he went up to his room to bathe and go to bed.
For the rest of the week, he repeated that schedule on Sunday after sneaking out early from a dreadfully boring lunch with the high nobles after work he snuck off to the library to find a book on the language of the north so he could translate his letter to Vera. The hard part wouldn't be the translating it would be finding someone that didn't know him to deliver it. And thus started their tradition of sending secret messages to each other.