All the palace gardens, even the ones that were open to the public, shared many qualities. The lawns were all neatly cut, a fact that Aurelius had confirmed for them all one day when they had taken the time to crawl on the ground, searching for a single blade of grass that might tower over its fellows. Soft splashing fountains peppered the scene, and a large one that flowed into miniature streams across the grounds always stood in the middle of each garden. Many would expect to see rose bushes that had been so well cared for that they were, essentially, rose trees. There were some fruit trees too, twitching with movement from the robins that would fly in and out of their nesting sites, built on twisted limbs. Curved walkways of marble and a coral-colored stone that Etraon didn’t recognize would spiral about the garden, and the view of them from the castle was exquisite.

Utarion was lounging in a hammock, dressed in what Etraon realized was the simplest attire that he had ever seen his father in, a simple brown tunic with just the slightest hint of embroidery along the sleeves and bottom hem. He wore sandals with leather straps and was pulling his finger through the cool water of the stream that flowed right next to him. A little canary hopped about on the ground next to his hand, looked up at him, and chirped a little song before it flew away to a nearby tree. Etraon paused thoughtfully, thinking about how he’d phrase his questions, when the canary saw him in the doorway and suddenly burst into song again. It flew back towards Utarion and, circling around his head, drew his attention to Etraon. Utarion smiled and sat up in the hammock, held out his finger, and let the bright yellow bird land there. It tipped back its head and sang ecstatically as if it were proud of what it had accomplished, and Etraon felt warmth well up somewhere within him as he watched his father listening to its melody with a gentle smile.

“What brings you here, Etraon?” he asked, gesturing with his free hand for Etraon to approach.

Etraon proceeded to tell him all that had happened; Morgan’s kind provision of his afternoon tea with biscuits and honey, the story she had told him, and the questions that had immediately followed.

“She said it was your story, Father.”

“So it was,” Utarion chuckled, “so it was.”

Etraon stared at his father, stunned, unable to comprehend the kind of answer this story held for his father to have such a fond, nostalgic expression on his face. Undaunted, and all the more intrigued by the answers that lay in wait, he continued.

“Why didn’t you take your boots back with you?” he asked.

Utarion leaned back reflectively and looked up at the sky as he thought about it.

“I had been swimming for a long while that day and my toes were all wrinkled,” he replied, making a face. “The boots were uncomfortable by then and the grass felt like heaven in comparison. I decided to go home barefoot and your grandmother did not like that decision at all.”

Etraon thought about it and frowned. “Well, that makes sense to me. I don’t see why Morgan said that about you.”

“Said what?” Utarion asked him, clearly interested.

“She said you weren’t very smart,” Etraon confessed. Utarion rolled his eyes skyward, and for just a moment. Etraon caught a glimpse of the adventurous boy that his father had been before he became the emperor.

“Just between you and me, son, Morgan scored lower on every exam that Derek and I took back in the days when the three of us were in school together. It’s a bit of a sore point for her, so we let her have her moments.”

“But you’re the Emperor!” Etraon spluttered. “How can she say that?”

“It’s a privilege of close friends of the family. They can insult us in private without exacting any sort of penalty for what others would call borderline treason.”

“I still don’t think she should have said that.”

“I let her,” Utarion replied wryly. “It keeps her from feeding me those awful concoctions of hers every time I catch cold. If I’ve learned something over the many years of having her as a physician, it’s that having her in a better mood guarantees better tasting medicine. You remember that, son.” That was the best thing Etraon had heard all day.

“…Father?”

“Yes?”

“Who was that boy? And why did he throw your boots in the river? You didn’t do anything to him.”

“We were of similar age, but to a normal boy who lived an average life in the capital, we seemed worlds apart. The bridge wasn’t a part of the castle grounds. To him, having the crown prince walk up like he owned the place, dressed in all his finery was infuriating. It was almost as if I was rubbing salt on the wound, if you get my meaning.”

“But…you were the crown prince. You did own it.”

“Did I really?” Utarion asked.

“Well, you did, didn’t we? I mean, we’re the royal family. We run the country.”

“Then what do the people own, if I might ask?”

“They-,” Etraon began then stopped. He frowned, thinking hard. He had never really thought the matter through. If his family ran the country and owned everything, then theoretically speaking, the people who lived in their country owned nothing. That wasn’t right, he corrected himself. Even among the guards who protected the capital, there was a clear differentiation of who owned what weapon, whose armor was whose, and which horse belonged to which guard. But all of these things were property of the castle, anything would be replaced if they were ever lost, stolen, or broken by circumstances beyond the guards. There was really only one answer that Etraon could give to that question.

“…I…I don’t know.” He hung his head, slightly ashamed that in the face of such a simple question, he, Etraon the Crown Prince of Zourik, had no words. There was a creaking followed by rustling from the hammock as Utarion rose and enveloped his son in a warm embrace.

“It’s a difficult thing to put into words, I know,” Utarion murmured, just barely loud enough for Etraon to hear. “Even as the Emperor, I’m still learning the answer to that question every day.”

“I know now,” Etraon said then. “As the Crown Prince, I can’t go about acting as if I own everything.” His eyes widened as Morgan’s words came floating back to him. “Is that what she meant, Father? That when I go into training, I have to be careful about how I act and how I dress and how I am around the other boys?”

“I suspect that she was hoping you would make a connection between the two, yes.” Utarion smiled approvingly. “I’m proud of you for taking your thoughts further than our discussion did. So, my son, what do we do now that you’ve had this revelation about your future?”

“We need to talk to Derek,” Etraon announced firmly. “He’ll know how to keep my identity and my behavior under control so that the others won’t treat me as the crown prince all the time.”

“That’s my boy.”

Together, they left the garden and headed for Derek’s office. Etraon felt just a little more grown up, more mature. He glanced up at his father and conceded to the fact that he wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps to become the greatest emperor Zourik had ever seen. With someone like Utarion as the reigning emperor, the bar had been set high. No matter, Etraon smiled. After all, Father himself would teach him all that he needed to know to be a good emperor, and Etraon’s own imagination would make him a different ruler from Utarion. Maybe even a better one. But who knew what the future held? Three years from now, he’d be a squire. And after that… He stopped in his tracks just as they came to Derek’s door and stared at his father. There was one more question that had been left unanswered. The two of them entered the room and Derek, who had been seated behind his desk, rose to greet them.

“Father?” He had to ask now.

“Hmm?” came the reply as Utarion turned back to face him.

“Who was the boy that threw your boots into the river?” To his surprise, Utarion started to laugh and pound on his friend’s back so hard that a pained expression ran across Derek’s features. Every standard of that Etraon had ever placed on his image of his father was promptly shattered.

“My Lord, you are quite capable of damaging someone’s hearing in close quarters,” Derek complained with a wry face. Utarion nodded apologetically and moved a few feet away, still laughing.

“H-He asked….he asked…” Utarion was almost howling with laughter by this point. “This is too good!”

“I don’t understand what’s so funny,” Etraon protested, somewhat hurt and confused by his father’s reaction.

“You asked about the boy,” Utarion chuckled, calmer now after his initial laughing fit had subsided.

“I still don’t understand why you’re laughing so hard.”

“Because the boy who threw his boots in the river was me.”

Derek’s face was slightly reddened with embarrassment and Etraon couldn’t help it. He glanced at his father, and to Derek’s annoyance, proceeded to laugh.

-----

Author's Note:

I hope the point of the story wasn't lost on folks. Sorry if it was. I meant for it to feel "deep" upon first read/hearing, but sometimes, it's the simple things that can be the hardest things to articulate. We feel things, but can't articulate our emotions. We do spur of the moment nonsense that we can't justify 5 seconds later. People we didn't care to know upon first meeting them became our best friends later in life.