Summery: [Pre-TPL] A young Damas fears for his ailing father, for he doesn't feel ready to take his place on the throne. In his wanderings outside the Palace walls, what if he finds that his father's illness is more sinister than everyone suspects?
Author's Notes: I always had a soft spot in my heart for Damas; he was such a strong and impressive character in Jak 3. So I thought I would give my interpretation of how the "sand king" grew from an uncertain young boy to the strong and effective leader we all love.
For those of you who read my other Jak and Daxter story, this doesn't have any connections to it. So any new readers don't have to go read my other story to understand this one. You may see that this chapter is much shorter than my Darkness Fades story; this is because I am trying a more direct approach to writing, instead of detailing every little aspect. Maybe later I'll start with longer chapters… we'll see. Well, I hope I did alright, and I hope you all enjoy!
UPDATE: I'm going through and editing these chapters for now, and working on the next one, been a long time, I know, but I remembered why I liked this story just recently. :) Hope people will still like to read it lol.
The Prince of Haven: Chapter One, Discontent.
The people of Haven looked so small from the Palace. From the birds-eye view could be seen the many people milling about their normal day activities. It was strange to look down on so many people, knowing that you had never met, nor probably ever would meet, any of them. It made a person realize how small and insignificant they were. Every person below him had their own lives and concerns, most would never leave a mark on the world.
Damas couldn't help but envy them, for they had simple, humble lives that would never put much pressure on them. It would be a relief to be among them, to never have to make decisions that affected the lives of everyone in the city, to only have to worry about things that concerned his own life…
"Prince Damas, your father wishes to speak to you in the throne room," a voice broke through his musings.
Looking away from the large window before him, Damas looked to his trusted guard. Maddux had been trusted as his personal body guard since he had been old enough to walk. His was a big, burly man, and tended to be rather quiet, but Damas liked him just the same. When he did have something to say it was usually blunt, but right to the point. Damas admired him for it, for the members of the council always spoke in circles and half-truths.
Damas thanked Maddux politely then lead the way to the king.
His father sat on the throne, obviously just ending a meeting with his generals. The Metal Heads had been sighted moving again, and the king wanted to be ready for any possible assault on the city. King Theron was well known for his love of the city, and those who inhabited it. He would never risk being unprepared for an attack on his city.
"My son," Theron greeted him merrily, rising from his seat.
"You wished to speak with me, father?"
"Yes, yes, right to business, my boy?" Theron laughed, "That's an outstanding quality in one so young. A matter has come up concerning diplomacy with one of our neighboring cities. I will be leaving for Kras City in a week's time, and I thought I would leave the day to day tasks of running the city to you."
"To me?"
"Don't look so shocked, my son, you will be king someday. You are seventeen years old, and I think it's about time for you to take a more active role in governing the city. You don't have to answer me yet, just think about it for a few days," Theron wrapped an arm around his young son's shoulders.
An attendant interrupted the conversation and whispered to King Theron.
"Forgive me Damas, but I must run. The City Council is waiting for my debriefing on the Metal Head situation. Think about what I said."
Like most conversations with his father, this one was short and rushed. Theron was out the door quickly, as well as his attendants. The throne room was empty in a matter of seconds, leaving just Damas and Maddux. Damas didn't mind, you didn't grow up in the Palace and not understand the many responsibilities of the King. Theron was constantly on the move, dealing with the concerns of the city and council, as well and keeping tabs on the Metal Head threat. Damas admired his father and his dedication, but he didn't know if he had it in him to do all the jobs that was required of a king.
Damas was astounded at his father's request. He couldn't be serious, could he? Theron couldn't possibly leave him in charge of the city for a few days. What if something went wrong? What if the Metal Heads launched an assault in the time that his father was gone?
He pushed the negative thoughts out of his head; he could understand his father's reasoning. He would be king someday…whether he felt ready for it or not…
Taking a deep breath, Damas pushed all thoughts of the future from his mind once and for all. He was stressing himself out, and it wouldn't do him any good.
Maybe I should get away for a while, the thought came unbidden to his mind.
It was a small idea, but as he thought it, Damas couldn't help but feel excited at the idea. He never really got to go out to the city, unless one counted the times he went to the council chambers with his father, but never on his own. How good it would feel to be out of the Palace and all the protocol that pertained to it. To be able to walk down the street without people bowing to him or saluting him? To only be known by a name, not a title? The more he thought about it, the more it sounded appealing.
His hopes were crushed when he thought deeper, for reality kicked in. He was a young prince of Haven, and therefore not allowed outside the Palace walls without an escort. King Theron was known for his hands-on technique when working with the people of Haven, but the council certainly didn't agree with him. The council was stuck in the past, thinking that the governing parties should stay separate and above those they ruled. Though Theron didn't agree with them, he still had to keep on their good side. If Damas was caught "slumming," as the council saw it, it wouldn't reflect well on his father.
More pointless dreams, Damas thought as he walked from the empty throne room.
Damas's days were usually spent in lessons concerning many different topics, from geography to etiquette, but today he couldn't force his mind to focus on what his tutor was saying.
His teacher was an older man and a chronicler for the city council, with a temper shorter than his stature. After not extracting the correct answer from the young prince, he slammed down his large book and cursed the wandering minds of the youth. After apologizing profusely, Damas tried to get a handle on his rebellious mind.
Restlessness was a new feeling to Damas. Inside the Palace there was always something to do, but he no longer felt content with his surroundings. The rest of the lessons for the day went slower than he ever thought imaginable, leaving him with an agitated feeling by the end of them.
By the time dinner rolled around, Damas was having a hard enough time keeping still. Sitting in an uncomfortable chair for dinner didn't sound like the greatest way to end his irritation from the day. Feigning fatigue, Damas skipped dinner and went to his private chambers to be alone. He didn't want his newfound discontent alerted to his parents, who had enough to deal with as king and queen.
Tossing himself on his large bed, Damas let out a large sigh. The sense of accomplishment he usually got from the day was noticeably absent. Whatever new mindset was taking over had robbed him of his day's satisfaction. What was coming over him that made him feel so discontented?
He knew the answer, just as he knew a way to sate his need for something different in his life. Still not being able to sit still, Damas moved to his large window. The sun had started to set in the west, giving the city a reddish glow that seemed almost poetic. Slowly the many lights within the city started to glow, rivaling the many stars that had started to appear. Though there weren't as many people in the darkening streets as there was during midday, many people still were milling around. Again the need to be among them drew at Damas.
The desire was too strong to ignore.
Moving to his closet, Damas pulled out some clothes that would be seen as normal for an average teen. Changing from his nicer attire, he stashed them in their rightful spot. Pulling an old hat from the closet as well, Damas hid his blonde tendrils from sight, which, hopefully, would make it harder for people to recognize him.
Inspecting himself in the mirror, Damas thought that his disguise would work, for he hardly recognized himself. Damas' heart beat uncontrollably as he moved to the window and pushed it open. The wind howled this high above ground, making the situation seem surreal. Climbing down the roof to the service walkway, he couldn't help but feel excited.
His heart beating profusely, Damas climbed into one of the service elevators. The old elevator groaned loudly as it started up, convincing him that he was going to be caught. His fears seemed to be unfounded, though, as no one was waiting for him on the ground floor.
Stepping cautiously out of the elevator, Damas couldn't help but second guess his decision to sneak out of the Palace. He stopped just outside the elevator, knowing that he still had a choice to turn around and forget his rash foolishness.
"Hey, you!" A harsh voice called down the hall.
Turning quickly to his interloper, Damas tried to keep a guilty look off his face, which he was sure he failed miserably at. A big, burly Haven City Police officer approached him, looking very stern. Damas was convinced that he was a dead man.
"Those elevators are off limits; get out of here you little punk!" The man bellowed.
Damas blanched, he hadn't been recognized, and the man thought he was trying to sneak in the Palace, not out! Damas tried to stammer out an apology, but at another unyielding look from the officer, he turned on his heel and walked a little faster than normal to the large door that was his key to freedom.
The night air was cool and refreshing to his flushed face. Taking some slow, deep breaths, Damas tried to control his fast beating heart, while not slowing his pace, just in case that guard decided not to let him go.
Damas blended in easily with a nearby crowd, letting his feet take them where they will. Once he was a safe distance from the Palace, it finally hit him that he hadn't managed to get caught, and that he was free to do what he wanted for a few hours. He had managed to do what he had been dreaming about subconsciously for months. Now there was only one problem—
What exactly did normal teens do?
Author's Notes: As always, review, review, review! It inspires me :)