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Moonlight pours into the room, high above the rest of the castle. Inside, on a grand, majestic bed, lies a fox, tossing and turning. His ear twitches as boots click on the marble floor and shouts from below rise up to his room. He wakes up, his mind cloudy from sleep. Stumbling over to the window overlooking the courtyard, he sees guards running to and fro, shouting orders and commands at each other. Sighing, the fox slips out of his nightgown and into a more sophisticated look, grabs a pair of well-worn boots, and starts descending the spiral stairs down into the main castle. The main hallway is chaos. Guards running around, commands being shouted from all around him, and yet none of them have any sense of what’s happening. As soon as they all see the fox, clad in a loose white shirt and black pants, they all snap to attention in a wave, with the ones farther away taking a little while to catch on.
“Prince Fundy! It’s nice to see you out of your room for once!” A short, stout guard greets him, and Fundy walks over to him.
“I wouldn’t be out of my room if not for you idiots who are running around like chickens with their heads cut off.” Fundy shakes his head, looking around at all the frazzled guards.
“Well you see sir, a little while ago, one of the other princes was woken up by a rock shattering his window, and we saw a figure slip away, and we’ve uh- we've been trying to find him.” The guard stumbles over his words, he’s clearly nervous in the presence of Fundy.
“Well, did you find anything? Because it sure didn’t look like you were trying.” Fundy raises an eyebrow, once again looking around at the guards in disappointment.
“We haven’t found any sign of the intruder yet, but we- we did find a note attached to the rock that was in the prince’s room, but all it says is- it said something like “you know where to find me” and was signed with “dream boy” I mean what kind of arrogant asshole signs his name with dream boy.” Shaking his head, the guard nervously looks back at his fellow guards, before giving Fundy a small salute and turning back to the other guards, walking away, “If you don’t mind, we’re gonna continue looking for this fellow.”
Fundy nods his head, and starts walking back towards his room. Once there, he ties his long hair back into a ponytail, grabs a sword, and fastens it around his waist. Walking back downstairs, he heads outside and into the courtyard. A fountain bubbles to his left, and to his right a rabbit darts under a bush. Up ahead is a large garden, filled with roses of all colors, natural and artificial. He keeps walking until he reaches the artificial section, and then a bit more until he sees the roses he’s looking for. Bright pink and illuminated by the moon directly overhead, they’re some of the most beautiful roses in the garden. At least, in Fundy’s opinion they are. Though not because of their color, though they are gorgeous. You see, around a week ago, Fundy had a dream. He dreamt of a world where he was free, a world where he was free from the gates of this castle. The gates that had rusted shut, the gates that hadn’t been opened in centuries. Fundy wasn’t even sure if there was a key, rumor has it that the key was stolen years ago and the culprit was never found. He had dreamt of a world full of joy, full of freedom. But amongst that freedom was violence. Explosions, fire, the taste of blood and ashes in your mouth. Betrayal, manipulation, executions. A world full of gods and mortals, where the gods lived amongst the mortals and built works of wonder. However, the gods were also cruel. They killed, they talked sweet, sweet lies, they stole and they tortured. This world was violent, and yet there was a strange sense of wonder that this world contained. And at the center of this world was a man, cast in shadow. A man, controlling everything. A man, standing in a rose garden, surrounded by bright pink roses, roses dripping with blood. And as the man turned around, the dream ended and Fundy woke up.
And here he is now, in a rose garden at midnight, hoping for this mysterious man to make an appearance. And make an appearance he does. From out of the corner of his eye, Fundy sees a movement. Turning, he sees a man amongst the roses, roses dripping with blood, a hood casting a shadow over his face. A hand, dripping with blood, pulls off the hood, to reveal the man’s face. Short brown hair tipped with pink covers his head, and part of his face. Under the cloak, Fundy sees a black ruffled shirt with green embroidery on it. His voice is smooth and steady as he walks over to Fundy with a simple, “Did you miss me?” The corners of his mouth turn up into a small smile, and he grabs Fundy’s hand, laying it out flat. With his other hand, he reaches into his pocket and brings out an old, rusty key, engraved with a fancy W. The same W that is engraved on the top of the rusty gate, the gate standing between Fundy and freedom. Freedom to roam the forest and the rolling hills, freedom to do what he wants without everyone breathing down his back. Fundy looks at him in shock, his warm brown eyes meeting the man’s purple eyes.
The man smiles proudly. “Yep! And no one ever caught me, not surprising given how incompetent these guards are," he scoffs.
“What was the reason? The gates never open anyways, no matter how much people ask - and how did you get into the castle in the first place, those walls are a mile high and practically have spears on top.” Fundy’s brow furrows in confusion as he looks down at the key, then back up at the man.
“Well firstly, it was fun. Second of all, I knew there would be a point where it would be useful, and hey, I was right!” He shrugs, then looks back at Fundy. “So, you wanna stand here all night until the guards find us, or do you want to finally get out of this miserable place.”
Fundy starts to agree, but he hesitates. While he hated this place, it was still his home. And while his father sheltered him, babied him, practically locked him up, he was still his son. And the people. The people here were wonderful and while he never talked to them, Fundy had a feeling he would miss them. But, while he loves the people in this place and while it does have its charm - somehow. Fundy wants that feeling of freedom. The feeling of being able to travel, to see the different places that the bards sing about and the poets write about. So he looks up at the man, grabs the key in one hand and his hand in the other, and starts running. Running towards the gate to the prison he’s lived in all his life. Running towards freedom.