CHAPTER TWO: The Beginning
*DOCTOR PHIL'S POV*
I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't want to be born royal. I don't want to be a prince, trapped within the palace walls. It's stifling, all these complicated rules and societal standards and etiquette and stuff. Pomp and circumstance, that's all it is. It practically suffocates me, but my father lives for all of this. Racial superiority, wealth, power, all of the things I don't want.
I strap on my sword over my toga. It's not my favorite weapon (I prefer axes), but it's more "Roman," as my father would say. God only knows what kind of punishment I'd receive if I showed up in front of all his staff with a barbarian's weapon, one meant for low-class humans. Any kind of discipline won't be much different from the servant they're forcing me to accept. How old do they think I am? I'm eighteen, I can care for myself. And if the simple fact that they're saddling me with someone to trip over my heels wasn't bad enough, I'll no doubt be expected to abuse them as well, just like all the other Baccas in the palace. I can't even begin to count the number of times I've seen a paw strike a face, or a stomach, or even the groin. It hurts me almost as much as it hurts the servants.
Why can't the others see it? They think the humans, robots, and lava mobs are less than we. That they can think just enough to mimic basic Bacca functions. Honestly, I haven't been able to experiment to see if this is true. But something tells me when I see the pain in their eyes as the blow hits that they are more than copies of a perfect, furry race. I think they could be real people under all that skin, metal, and molten rock.
Today begins my experiment: can humans think?
I walk down the corridor that leads from my rooms to the throne room, engrossed in my thoughts of social justice and species equality. I arrive in the long hall just as Maximus slips out the large doors at the other end.
"Cutting it a bit close, aren't we, Doctor Phil?" my father says, not turning to me. Just hearing the sound of my own name makes me angry. He chides me for carrying a "non-Roman" weapon, yet named me the least Roman name I could imagine? King indeed.
"The tributes have not arrived, Father. I would say that I am early. Besides, a prince is never late," I answer. My father laughs his hearty laugh, while my mother frowns.
"Princes might not be late, but they are disrespectful of their elders. You would do well to restrain your tongue, son of mine," she says. Her brown eyes glitter, like she knows something I don't and intends it to cause me harm. That's ridiculous though; she's my mother and would never hurt me.
"Yes, mother," I say, and turn my attention to the heavy doors at the end of the aisle. After only a few minutes, they swing open, and a parade of teenagers enters the most powerful room in the entire palace. They are a mix of humans, robots, and lava mobs. No slimes this year, it appears. I'm not surprised. Slimes are rare. We only have one working in the palace now.
I don't really pay attention to who goes where until only three left, a robot girl, a human girl, and a human boy. The chef chooses the robot girl, and my mother chooses the human girl. It's better this way; if she'd chosen the boy, she would have seduced him and invoked the rage of my father. The boy's life would have been brief, and I would have to see another life snuffed out by the supremacist attitude of my parents. Plus, if I had gotten the girl, my father would have expected me to… use her. The last thing I want is hybrid children, who are the most despised class in our society.
I watch the girl as she goes behind my mother. Her life will hopefully be longer than if she was male, but my mother does not have a good history with young, beautiful human servants. The girl shoots a smile at my human as she makes sure the door is shut.
Interesting. Observation one: they can form emotional connections. I'll have to write that down later. I tell the boy to follow me and lead him through the door that leads to my corridor.
"Your name?" I ask. I know they respond to basic commands, but I don't want to use overly complicated words just in case.
"I – I haven't one, Your Highness," he says. Observation two: they are capable of using good grammar and have atrociously good manners. I hate being called by my title. I have a name, and even though it's horrid one might as well use it.
"Please don't call me that. I don't like it. I don't like being superior to other people. My parents live for that stuff, though, so who am I to argue? All this pomp and circumstance. What I wouldn't give for a simple life in the city, with no cares and no attachments."
I don't know why I'm telling him this. Probably because he's most likely unable to understand. Sure enough, he just nods.
"I'm Doctor Phil," I say, hoping that he'll get the message and call me that instead.
"I am at your service," he replies, kneeling before me. They are programmed to be subservient! It's disgusting. I yank him to his feet and slap him across the face. I hold back, not wanting to be my father, but I don't know how else to get through to him.
"Did you hear nothing of what I said? I don't like feeling above other sentient creatures. So don't bow and look me in the eyes when you talk. It's bad enough that I have to have a servant, like I can't fend for myself. But one who grovels like a worm? Were you born without a spine as well as without a name? LOOK AT ME!" I say. He stares at me, and something in his eyes hardens.
"I may have no name, but I do have a spine. I want to be here even less than you want me here. My mother is alone now, with no one to keep her safe. But if I leave, she will die more surely than if I were to throw her outside the city wall at a full moon while bound hand and foot. If I escape, I will be found and tortured, my family attacked, and you will get away scot-free. The least you can do is at least make it easy for me to hate you." He finishes his speech and maintains eye contact, staring me down. I'm startled. This is much more than I expected. Observation three: they are not subservient. This is a huge breakthrough! Humans have the ability to formulate opinions and emotional bonds! They might even be able to perform more complicated academic functions. This brings my experiment in a whole new direction.
But science aside, this kid's life sucks. His mother's life in danger simply because he isn't there to protect her. I may not want a servant, but if I help him escape he will die with her. The guilt would be a far worse punishment than anything my parents can dream up. One so unfortunate deserves a name.
"Then I name you. You are Milo, meaning 'soldier,' because your load to bear in life is greater than I could have imagined," I say. The name suits him.
"No. I am Mitch, because that name is meaningless, as am I. But by the end of my life, I will give it meaning. This is my promise to you, Prince Doctor Phil," he says, still staring. I feel almost cornered by the force of his gaze, but I cover it with a smile and a laugh. Besides, the name Mitch suits him even better than Milo.
"Very well. But around anyone else, you are Milo. You are mine, and it is my right to name you. And I am glad it was you who was chosen." I turn my back to him and continue down the corridor to my rooms. I ask him about the girl as soon as the door shuts behind us and we're alone. He tells me that her name is Astraea. I remember from my studies that it means 'starry one.' I think there was some woman in history somewhere named that. I warn him about her chances in my mother's service. I hope for his sake that she turns out alright. Maybe they'll have a future when they're released. More of a future than I'll have, anyway. All that's ahead of me is a dusty throne and glory in wealth.
I stretch out on my bed with a couple of scrolls to record my observations so far. After about a half an hour, I realize that the boy, Mitch, is still standing there. I grab a couple scrolls from the table next to me and toss them to him. He catches them easily, almost gracefully.
"Put these in the shelf under the subject matter. The title should tell you all you need to know. My library is through there," I say, pointing at the door to my left. He hesitates.
"Well? Are you going to go or not?" I say. Maybe I was wrong, and humans are just as stupid as my father says. He shuffles his feet and mumbles something.
"Speak louder."
"I can't read," he says, blushing and avoiding my eyes. I sigh. Another setback. Not even the brain capacity to read.
"Why not?" I ask.
"Most people in the city don't. Reading is reserved for Baccas only. They don't think us humans or anyone else is smart enough, and they think it's too dangerous to program the robots."
I get up off the bed and take the scrolls from him.
"I'll just do it myself then. No big deal." As I walk into the library, a thought strikes me like lightning from Notch himself. I could teach him to read!
"I could teach you," I offer, reentering the other room and leaning against the door frame. He shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the floor.
"I would be punished severely, probably worse than they do in the city. It isn't my place." He looks so sad; I just want to make him happier. I don't know what to do, though; there's not much to do here. I look around, my gaze fixing on my wall of weapons.
"Ever held a sword?" I ask, taking one off the wall.
"Not allowed."
"Is there anything you are allowed to do?" I ask jokingly.
"Reproduce. Make more people for the king to control," he says. He still doesn't meet my eyes. I digest this information slowly. Things in the city are much worse than I thought. I will have to have a talk with my father about this.
"Well aren't you a ray of sunshine," I say, trying to lighten the mood.
"Nope. That's illegal," he says. He finally looks at me and smiles so that I know he's joking. His smile is incredible; it takes over his whole face, lighting up his features. I can't help but smile as well.
"Nothing's illegal for the prince. And from now on, that extends to you, biggums," I say holding out my paw for him to shake. He extends his hand hesitantly.
"Biggums?"
"Bacca term of friendship."
"Biggums. I like it," he says, smiling again as he shakes my hand. I only let go when he does. But Notch, his smile.
No, I don't think a female servant would have suited me.
A/N TIME! MY FAVORITE TIME! : Hey guys! QD here with another installment of my first-ever Merome story. Quite honestly, I never thought I'd be writing a Merome story, yet here I am. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed so far. I hope you guys are enjoying this, because I know I am. As you can tell, this fic is not gonna be short. I have much planned [insert evil author smile]. The POV will shift between Mitch and Jerome approximately every chapter, just so you know. Also, I have a poll up on my profile about possible one-shots in the future. Go vote! I want to hear your beautiful voices crying out with feedback. As always, don't forget to review, follow, etc. Much luv!
-Quiet Defiance
PS – if you like Mitch x OC stories (and my writing style), check out my other main story In Benja I Trust. I promise it's worth your time :) *shameless plug over*