The Winter's Servant {Stucky AU} COMPLETED

~Chapter Eighteen~

                       James paced back and forth through the throne room as his father rambled on about the war.  To James, it was all a whirlwind of names of countless countries and Fuhers and president's names that he wasn't really paying too much attention to. 

He knew that he should be,  it was just that such matters never made much sense to him.  It really was awful,  considering the fact that the moment his father died,  the crown would be thrown upon him and ranting about wars and foreign countries would become his responsibility.

James didn't want it. 
He didn't want any of it. 

"James, " his father snapped abruptly.

James looked up and met his father's eyes.  "Yes? "

"Are you listening? "

"Of course. "

"What was I talking about,  then? " The King questioned skeptically. 

James hesitated before slowly answering,  "America,  wasn't it?  How they continue to remain neutral?"

His father nodded, clearly impressed that his son had even caught that much.  The King then heaved a soft sigh,  and James couldn't help but to feel the slightest bit sorry for him.  He knew that being royalty wasn't easy,  especially when the weight of a whole country rested upon your shoulders. 

He gave his father a sympathetic smile.  "I'm sure everything will be alright. "

The King put his head in his hands. "I certainly hope you're right,  James. "

The Prince excused himself from the throne room and began walking through the palace,  loitering.  The thing that he'd discovered about being a royal heir was that when he wasn't sitting in on political lectures or being constantly retorted by the numerous tutors he'd had as a child that he didn't act enough like a proper prince, was that he didn't have much of a personality of his own.

Everyone he knew had qualities,  hobbies and antics that defined them,  that set them apart from others.

Everyone except him.

He'd found that he felt significantly empty without being told what to do and who to be.  He felt that he wasn't anyone of any importance without the word 'prince ' framing his name. 

He never knew what to do with himself when he was alone. 

James wandered outside into the cool night air and into the garden,  which looked enchanting in the pale moonlight,  shining a delicate, soft light on rose petals and marble statues of angels that stood in every corner. 

He sighed as he sat down on an intricately carved stone bench.  He ran his long fingers along the cold,  smooth surface when he realized that it was the exact same bench that he'd sat in with Steven months before.  On that very bench he became more honest with his servant than he'd ever been with another human being.  On that bench he'd ran his fingers along the servant's small,  cold hands and had never felt as he did at that moment before.  He felt that he could tell him everything and that he wanted nothing more than to spend eternity by his side. 

James grew sad at the recollection.  He hadn't spoken to Steven all week and longed for him desperately.  His bed felt cold as ice and isolated when he laid in it each night,  his arms yearning to wrap themselves around the skinny body of his servant. 

He didn't know what to do with himself without Steven. 

The Prince stood up and began to pace the path of stepping stones that circled themselves around the garden, acting  as a sidewalk.