A world run by money is so heartless, few boys could ever think of being a "prince" - yet if girls are trained from the cradle to seek it by tales such as Cinderella, love itself is poisoned. Surely what we all need is to feel seen, heard and treasured, to have that feeling of safety and trust with our lover. It's so easy to see how money and love are incompatible.
Of princes there are few, of men with crowns taken by force there are many. My prince was one of the few, appointed by the universe and the nature Mother Earth bestowed upon him. He was put there to be a light in the darkness, though to shine amid such terror was a hell to him, he was perfect. I would have followed him anywhere in this world or any other, hardship or fair sailing. It was my duty to keep his flame alive when the hurricanes came, to ward off those consumed with jealous pride. To give my life for him in every mortal realm is the only honour I seek, to be the mother when his child-self cries, to be the one who protects when the dark forces come. Yet perhaps one day there will be a place of safety, an eden, a place of rest and joy. I hope so.
He was a prince of the earth, of the natural richness of men, never one to decorate himself in gold or jewels. To him every rock was precious, every ray of light was golden and from the earth grew the only treasures worthy of praise. He could see right within you and pull forth the goodness; show you what mattered and what to let free. Every man whom he met said the same, that he was prince and king all in one. It was as if they would only fight to be a leader when they hadn't faith in another to lead, but when they met him, those doubts were the thing they let free.
The prince had been born on a starlit night, amid the warmth of late summer. Some say it became part of him, that brilliant light from above and cozy feelings remaining from sunshine behind and ahead. I guess I saw that in him, always assured that there was a sparkle in every darkness, behind every cloud. It was as if when coldness came he was the warmth, as if his baby skin took it all in and kept it safe. His voice had a slowness, as if he had all the time in the world to talk with me, as if I really mattered to him. I can say that there is no person who ever held me in his eyes the way he did, another might need use of arms, not he. Yet in all that gentle spirit there was a warrior, one who would make any sacrifice to save others, to guard them, pay any price.
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