Last Words :: Chapter 1 – The King wants the Prince back

Title: Last Words (Short Story)
Date started: 8 April 2008
Author: ICC
Ratings: Mild but hints at BoyxBoycontent

Chapter 1 – The King wants the Prince back

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My grandmother used to tell me bedtime stories, that was before she passed away. I did not have the chance to share with her – whatever I currently have, she had left me before I made it in the entertainment industry. Recently, her kind and tender smile kept appearing in my thoughts, and I wonder if she was trying to tell me that she is proud of me – the useless grandson who could do nothing for her when she was alive. All I could do was to remember her and her stories… They taught me many things about life and people, brought me up like how my grandmother would.

Amongst the many stories, I like this particular one about an exiled prince; often imagining myself as the Prince when I was still a kid. The whole imagining experience usually ended up in tears as I felt pity for the pampered prince leading the life of a commoner. However, my grandmother always held my hand, brought it to her lips, and after giving it a light peck, she would say,”No my dear… The prince is not pitiful. He had gotten many things and possessions that he would never get a taste of if he was still a prince.”

I could also recall the tears that were flowing from my eyes when I stood by her deathbed. I held her hands like how she held mine and my heart just could not stop hurting.

“Titus… ” she breathed out weakly; it was barely audible but I’m glad that I managed to catch her calling my name. I moved my ear towards her pale quivering lips.

“The King… wants the prince… back… by his side…” She closed her eyes after finishing the sentence, and did not open them again. I did not think much about her “last words” as I occupied myself with the mundane preparations for her funeral. Why did I suddenly recall her words?
Why would the King want the prince back when he exiled him in the first place?
Why did the King exile the prince? – I do not remember that part of the story…

“There, I’m done,” Passing the manuscripts to my manager, I gave a smirk and made it obvious that I was proud of my “product”.

“T, you can be a writer, you know that? All these for your autobiography… your fans will be crying and loving you more.” My manager, Ambrose, was praising me. I could differentiate between a sneer and compliments, and that was definitely the latter. “You sure you had a grandmother who was like this?” She doubted me.

“That’s just a gimmick, dear Ambrose. Don’t tell me you fell for that?” I winked at her. Ambrose went a little red on the cheeks, turned her face away and stood back facing me while adjusting the hem of her dress.

“I’m … I’m just confirming with you. I have to clarify things with the company and the publishers…” her front still facing the opposite direction. After packing the manuscripts into her bag, Ambrose proceeded to leave.

“You have an interview with G-world magazine’s reporter at 3pm and after that, there’s the photo shoot at Studio X. Lana will be taking care of you today, I’m expecting the meeting with the publishers and editors to take the whole day.” She turned around and started nagging like my mother.

“Yes M’am!” I flashed her my widest grin and she left after closing the door to her office. When I agreed to do the autobiography thing, I knew what was coming. However, what I did not know was myself. Apparently, the more I write, the more truth I infused into the many words that came flowing out of my brain.

I’m Titus, the top entertainer, most talented and beautiful person in the entertainment circle. My songs and movies had moved millions around the world, and now I’m writing an autobiography for myself. No one believes “autobiographies” – that is what I think is true. At the beginning, all I thought was to spin some tear-wrenching tale for the female fans of mine and get them more affixed to me. However, as I wrote on, many of my personal history started pouring out into words. What’s happening to me? Reminiscing?

“The King wants the prince back…”

Sitting in the minibus that I take when I’m running on assignments, the thought could not stop looping. What King? Who’s the Prince? I had always felt pity for the prince, but as I grew older… my beliefs changed and so did my pity for the prince. If I were the prince, I would never want to leave my newly-accustomed comfort in the commoner’s world. Why would I return to a person who chased me away in the first place? Why? The King’s reason for exiling the prince… I do not remember at all. Maybe, my grandmother did not tell me, or maybe, my grandmother did not tell of such a story at all. Did I make it up?

The people at Studio X greeted me enthusiastically to which I returned with the brightest smile I could gather.

“Good afternoon guys, thanks for the hard work.” My words were firm and loud, so much so that they remained in the rather empty studio as echoes for the next few milliseconds.

“Keran is going to do a duo shoot with another model.” Lana said in a soft tone when she strolled beside me, along the corridor towards the makeup room. Keran is the assigned photographer for this project and he is one of the best in the field. Lana, with her brows knitted together, was apparently worried at the prospect of having another model in the project.

“It’s alright. Working with another person will be double the fun,” I assured her. Lana was new to the job. She was hired because Ambrose could not handle my exponentially increasing schedule and work load alone.

By the time I returned to the studio, Keran had started working on the other model. His assistant escorted me to the sides and I sat down on the prepared field chair.

“Good one… let’s try another pose.” I heard Keran giving instructions from where he stood. Tracing his line of sight, mine landed on a well built body. I got more curious on his looks as I traced his contours all the way up to his face. Jet black hair with soft strands falling to the side of his cheeks. That was the first thing I noticed. His eyes …

“The King wants the prince back…”

He had silver iris and they fitted nicely to his sharp features. His eyes were now opened fully, looking very confident and dignified.

His long fingers were placed on his thighs as he posed for the camera. Pale and fair, yet they looked muscular and strong. I swallowed a mouthful of saliva, making a “gulping” sound in the process.

“Titus!” Lana shook me. “You’re up next.”

I was jiggled out of the “observation process” (that was iterating by itself). Stand up from the field chair, I strode towards the object of my curiosity but I was interrupted by the photographer.

“Titus!” He pat my shoulder. “Meet Hugue! He’s new but since he’s so good…” Keran gave me a lewd smirk, “Anyway, he’ll be your partner for this project.”

“Nice to meet you, Titus.” The Hugue reached out and was waiting for a shake of hands. My heart was racing, blood was rushing and everything went spinning but I managed stretched out and held Hugue’s hand in mine.

“The King wants the prince back…”

I could not stare away from his silver eyes and my sweating palms were glued to his fair and firm hand.

“Titus?” Lana called out. I released his hands from my grip and turned my face away.

“Sorry, I was distracted.” I apologized without looking at him. Trying to look as calm as I could, I signaled to Keran that I was ready to start the session.

“It’s alright, my Prince.” Hugue whispered into my ear as we intersected each other’s path.