Prince Regan left for his room feeling satisfied as if he had achieved something great in his life for once.
He proceeded to drink and have merry in his room. Each glass he drank left a happy yet bitter feeling in his mouth, and his eyes stung with unspoken grief in his heart.
What was so good about being a Prince? He was just as useless as any other village man.
Always confined and restricted? Always following the orders and not having an order of my own? He wanted to feel accomplished, yet he felt useless. What was there giving orders and meting out punishments when there...
He hiccupped and gulped down yet another glass and continued his lamentations.
There was no joy in it. What was his work in the kingdom as a prince he was? Or was it all in the names? Maybe next time, he will try beheading someone to see how it feels.
