The young prince stared at the ebony gates surrounding his palace. He saw the rioting crowds that swarmed them almost every day. And he cried every single time an object was thrown at him. His mother told him that this country was paradise and they were lucky to be at the forefront. He knew that she was completely wrong and that she was only trying to protect from the harsh reality they lived in…
And that’s what hurt the most.
But the worst part was that a mere six year old formed this connection.
She saw him, sitting in his beautiful golden robes and just staring at the midsummer sky. Amidst all the chaos surrounding them, he still stayed calm and collected. Never angry, but occasionally a tear or two would slip every time that an object neared him. And she greatly admired that. For a young boy, this was an admirable trait. He was so unlike his father, who could be seen bellowing at this guards from the large balcony on the far right of the palace.
“Look Casis, nothing’s going to happen by standing and throwing a fit with the rest of country. Let’s just leave before anyone else gets hurt,” she heard her mother say. She reached out for the comforting touch of her hand, but instead, she felt a rough and calloused hand.
A man dressed in grandeur looked back at her.
And then her vision went black.