[Fic] [Round 21] Diary of a Spoiled Prince, G
Author/Artist: (seamusog)
Characters/Pairings: Diary, Wolfram
Word Count: 208
Rating: G
Any Warnings: Angst
Theme/Prompt being used: Non-speaker POV
Every night he breaks my heart. Tears of ink are scratched on my surface as he regales me with stories of the king.
He tells me of voyages to far away lands and of his seasickness and how the king rubbed his back.
He tells me of waking up with the king sitting on the floor yelling at him and his frustration of having to re-explain his presence in the king's bed.
He tells me of wedding dresses that the king's mother had shown him and his own ever-changing plans for the wedding ceremony.
He tells me of the princess and their picnics and his subsequent arguments with the king regarding his role as her father.
He tells me of the king's lack of artistic knowledge and appreciation for his paintings, and how the king ran away to play baseball with his brother for the umpteenth time.
I wish I could write words of my own so I could tell him to open his eyes.
I hold his heartbreak for him. But I cannot handle the intensity. I wish for all the world that one day he would pass a breaking point and pour his emotions onto me using fire instead of a pen.
Characters/Pairings: Diary, Wolfram
Word Count: 208
Rating: G
Any Warnings: Angst
Theme/Prompt being used: Non-speaker POV
Every night he breaks my heart. Tears of ink are scratched on my surface as he regales me with stories of the king.
He tells me of voyages to far away lands and of his seasickness and how the king rubbed his back.
He tells me of waking up with the king sitting on the floor yelling at him and his frustration of having to re-explain his presence in the king's bed.
He tells me of wedding dresses that the king's mother had shown him and his own ever-changing plans for the wedding ceremony.
He tells me of the princess and their picnics and his subsequent arguments with the king regarding his role as her father.
He tells me of the king's lack of artistic knowledge and appreciation for his paintings, and how the king ran away to play baseball with his brother for the umpteenth time.
I wish I could write words of my own so I could tell him to open his eyes.
I hold his heartbreak for him. But I cannot handle the intensity. I wish for all the world that one day he would pass a breaking point and pour his emotions onto me using fire instead of a pen.