First of all, thank you so much for your lovely reviews. I did not expect any to come this fast. The answer is: yes I do plan on writing more, at the very least the scenes from the movie from the prince's perspective. This chapter took me a while, mainly because I had to borrow the movie first. (I could write the first chapter based on the youtube clip from the movie) So now I have it and hopefully the next chapters will come along a little faster than this one.

As you can guess, I still DO NOT OWN ANYTHING but my grammatical and English errors.

Enjoy…

The palace floors were marble, resonating a light and hurried clanging of short heeled boots. The walls, as well as the floors were painted in cheerful light colors such as blue, green and yellow, all of which melted into a stream of turquoise, as the Prince hurried along them, not casting a glance to the servants that watched in astonishment at the literal spring in his step. But, never dreaming of even asking any of their employers something unrelated to their own duties. They simply shrugged and turned back to minding their own business.

If it would have been up to Kit, he'd hurried straight to his father's room to tell him all about the hunt, but alas, not everything was up to him. And so, after several attempts of escaping him, the prince's manservant, ever so nervous of bungling up his honorable duties, finally convinced him to get changed first. Even with the hunt cut short, there were schedules to maintain and Kit was trained from a young age the importance of punctuality. And also, with his newly acquired mantra to 'have courage and be kind', he could not possibly deny his servant any further and have him fear for his employment as a result of the prince's uncontrollable excitement. So the visit to his father was delayed for as long as it took the boy to rid himself of the many layers of outdoor coutoir and slip into another pair of riding trousers and a silk jacket in royal blue, matching those of the royal guard. Then finally, with as much speed as he had begun, the prince was able to continue his hasty walk towards his father's room.

The King's chambers were in the far south wing of the castle, away from the doors and immediate points of intrusion if ever, yet not among the higher rooms for a lack of ways to escape. However, Kit arrived at his father's door faster than he ever had, or maybe he just didn't remember the walk at all, being caught up in his dreams for the girl from the forest. He couldn't wait to tell his father, couldn't wait to report him every single word, describe him every single feeling he'd experienced. Feelings more intense than he remembered from the story of how his parents met. As a young boy, he always wished to have a similar love story when it was his turn, but growing older and more realistic, he started to realize that his parents' marriage based on love was among the exceptions in their class. When his father started teaching him the royal ways, Kit had met a prince of similar age to his several kingdoms over. It was during the renewal of a peace treaty and while their fathers talked about the cruelties that shall never be repeated, their sons, who did not remember the wars from the past, talked about their future instead. They had talked about hunting, traveling and of course marriage. Prince Maximillian, while aware of his royal duties, vowed that he would never marry a woman he didn't love and that he would enjoy his bachelor years to their fullest. Kit had doubted it, but secretly admired his courage. They became acquaintances and had kept contact through frequent letters. And indeed, it looked like Maximillian was able to keep his word. He'd traveled far away, met woman after woman, some he even claimed to have somewhat loved. All seemed good for the lad, but then tragedy stroke. His father fell ill, the son had to be summoned back to take over the King's duties and in order to provide stability to their kingdom, a rushed marriage was arranged. Gone were all illusions about a marriage of love, and letter after letter, Kit learned about the cage, marriage could be. How one could end up standing next to a woman in public, pretending to have affections for her, while behind closed doors they scarcely spoke, barely even acknowledged each other's presences. They could not even manage to build some sort of friendship, and yet they were forced to spend the rest of their lives together by duty. How should a loveless ever family prevail?

And so Kit tried to distance himself from the illusion of a happy ending. Tried to stay reasonable in order not to be too disappointed. But now, now that he had found what he hadn't dare dreamed of for so long, he could no longer contain his excitement.

Upon reaching his fathers room, he opened the door and marched in without knocking. "Father, I need to tell you something wonderful." He announced.

The King was currently sitting on a bench at the foot of his large bed, surrounded by drapes and colorful fabric, with nothing but his undergown on. His doctor had a stethoscope to the old man's back, listening to his ragged breathing. It was no secret, that age was causing the King discomfort. Yet it never made him grumpy or unpleasant. And it would never make him lose his good humor.

"I should think so, that prominent smile on your face might cause you more wrinkles than I currently have, which I didn't think was possible." He said, watching his son start to pace back and forth, still full of energy.

"Well go on, don't leave an old man waiting. How big was your catch this time."

"I didn't shoot anything." Kit said, not looking at the elder.

"You didn't?" The king asked. "Well how could that be, the Grand Duke was just telling me you would bring home quite a phenomenal animal."

"A stag, to be exact, but I let it go. Called off the hunt." The Prince confessed, stopping momentarily near the window to look outside.

The King raised his greying brows. "Well the Grand Duke won't like this." He muttered. "Whyever would you do such a thing?"

Still facing the window, Kit smiled. "I met someone." He finally turned around to meet his father's eyes, excitement clear in his. "A woman."

The Kings brows rose even higher and a smirk appeared on his old face, as he watched his only son start pacing again. "Well, well. And who might this impressive maiden be, if she could convince you to change your royal orders."

Kit knew his father wasn't scolding him. He knew the king's angry voice very well, and this one was definitely not angry, but genuinely amused.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"She never told me her name." Kit confessed. "But", he stooped to take a step closer to the king. "Father, this woman, she was stunning and beautiful and kind and humorous and wise and…" he stopped to think, struggling how to put all his thoughts and feelings about the mysterious woman into words. "Her hair was like golden waves, and her skin so pale and soft and her eyes…"

"You sound as if you were the first fella ever to meet a pretty girl." The king interrupted with a chuckle, only to be scolded by his son.

"She wasn't a pretty girl." He protested. "I mean, she was a pretty girl, but there was so much more to her…"

"Well how much more? You've only met her once." The king questioned. His smile had vanished by now, seeing as his son was more than just swept up by that girl. He was positively enchanted. And the king could guess where this conversation was going. "How could you know anything about her?"

"You told me you knew right away when you met mother." Kit said, pivoting as he reached the end of the room yet again.

And there it was. Just as the king predicted, the insinuation he'd dreaded. His innocent boy was bound to try and rebel against royal customs at some point in his life, which prince didn't? But as his father, the king knew it was his duty to put a stop to those thoughts as soon as they showed. "That's different." He said immediately. "Your mother was a princess."

"You would have loved her anyway." Kit interrupted.

"I would never have seen her, because it wouldn't have been appropriate." His father countered "And my father would have told me what I am telling you and I would have listened." He continued, watching as Kit finally stopped his useless pacing and sat down next to his old man.

"No you wouldn't!" He said.

"Yes I would!" His father replied.

"No, you wouldn't!" The boy insisted.

"I would!"

"You wouldn't!"

"You're right!" The king finished, having secretly lost track of who said would and who said wouldn't last.

Kit smiled at their childish banter, remembering countless similar occasions during his upbringing and reminding himself once again, how lucky he was to have such a kindhearted man for a father.

Then his face darkened, as he saw the physician straighten himself after finishing the medical examination. His face a mix of disappointment and pity. Kit instantly grew worried.

"Well, how is he?", He dared to ask after a few seconds of silence.

The doctor took a deep breath, unsure at which one of his masters he should look. "Your majesty", he started, but seemed to have lost his words. Kit was short of ordering him to answer already, when his father did so for him.

"Never mind." The king said in a defeated tone, lowering his gaze to an insignificant point on the carpet. "If it takes you that long to work out a way to say it, I already know."

But Kit didn't know. Or more, he refused to understand. Like all sons in the world, no matter their age, no matter their standing, losing one's father was a prospect they refused to accept, until they realized that there was nothing they could do.

"Father", Kit started, reaching for the old man's hand, but just like the doctor, he couldn't think of anything to say. As if the words were stuck in his throat.

His father looked at him with a sad smile and said with the confidence only a parent toward his child could muster: "Way of all flesh, boy."

Again, Kit wanted to say something. Encourage him, yell at him for admitting defeat, but he couldn't. He simply didn't know what to say, let alone what to do.

But the king wasn't dead yet, and so he squeezed his son's hand and heaved himself up from the sofa. "Come," he said, "we shall be late." He turned to Kit, who had a much harder time moving on after such crushing news. "And punctuality," the king started, his face mere inches from that of the prince "is the…"

"politeness of princes." Kit finished with him. A small smile reappeared on his youthful face, as his father patted his cheek lightly. He stood up as well and together they walked through the door, that was being held open by two servants. They entered the corridor, where the Captain and the Grand Duke were waiting. The latter, as predicted, was all but happy with the outcome of the hunt.

"I'm sure your father spoke to you about your behavior in the forest." He all but bellowed, as the four of them marched between the rows of guards, dressed in blue and yellow suits underneath their metal armor.

"Is it any business of yours grand duke." The prince replied, having absolutely no interest in engaging in the same old discussions with his grace.

"Your business is my business, your royal highness." The same replied for the umpteenth time. "You were not due to let the stag go free."

Kit couldn't help but smile, as he thought about why he'd acted that way back in the woods. "Just because it's what's done, doesn't mean it's what should be done." He repeated the young girl's words proudly. "Or something like that." He added.

They'd reached their destination, the drawing room, where a most unpleasant servant of theirs was awaiting. The royal portraiteur was very much known for the extent of his ego and whilst he tried to hide it with all his might, his displeasure of, well, mostly anything, always slipped through whenever he opened his mouth.

"Mister Phinneas, master of the paintbrush, patiently awaits." He introduced himself with and exaggerated bow towards the king. In fact, he didn't spare the other companions any attention, until instructed by the king.

"Make him look maritable, Master Phinneas." The monarch demanded, shaking the other man's hand politely. "We want to attract a suitable bride, even if he won't listen to a word I say.", he added, turning that last part to his son, who was being fitted with a matching blue overcoat, that differed him from the rest of the soldiers in the imaginary battlefield he supposedly fought and conquered.

"I endeavor to please, your majesty." Phinneas flattered and then added. "But I can't work miracles."

"Splendid canvas, Master Phinneas." The Captain complimented the sketch of the portrait, ignoring the painters comment.

"Thank you." The man in question said aloud. "As if he knows anything about art." He muttered under his breath, handing the prince, who was seated on the saddle of half a wooden horse by now, his sword.

"So these portraits," Kit started, "will really be send abroad to enduce the high and mighty to attend this ball you insist upon?", he asked in disbelief, while the painter was still fumbling about his attire.

"Which is a tradition." The Grand Duke said, referring to the ball, "which is beloved."

"At which you will choose a bride." The king concluded with a meaningful glare in his son's direction.

"Fascinating." Phinneas muttered clearly unimpressed as he turned to his work.

"If I must marry", Kit started yet again, not willing to give in so easily, "could I not wed, say, a good honest country girl."

The king was about to answer, but the Grand Duke beat him to it.

With and amused, almost belittling laugh, he stepped around his master to stand closer to the prince and said in a challenging tone "How many divisions will this good honest country girl provide us? How will she make the kingdom stronger? We are a small kingdom amongst great states, your royal highness. And it's a dangerous world."

The king, seeing that the harsh demands did not impress his son to the least, stepped closer to him, replacing his ever strong kingly face with that of a father and said with utmost sincerity: "Listen boy. I want to see you and the kingdom safe."

How could Kit ever argue with that. Holding his fathers affectionate gaze, while Phinneas gave a startled yelp at being pulled up on the swing that allowed him to reach the far ends of the painting, the prince gave in. "Alright father.", he said. But then he thought. If he couldn't marry the girl of his dreams, he could at least see her one last time. "On one condition", he added. "Let the invitations go to everyone." He turned his head to address the rest of the group of decision makers "not just the nobility", he clarified.

"What do you think." The king asked, not particularly displeased by the idea. But he was an old man and he had learned long ago, that contemplating other opinions was always an enrichment. "Would that please the people?"

"It's beyond my wit, your majesty." The Captain said with a smile, before the Grand Duke could open his mouth to protest. "But I wouldn't mind a bit of a jolly." He laughed heartfully and the king joined.

"I think we might have made a bargain." The Grand Duke said, stepping forward. His posture changing from disagreement to mischievous, as he wrung his hands like a devious villain explaining his evil plan. "A ball for the people. And a princess for the prince." He smiled a little too eagerly.

On the other side of the room, Master Phinneas on the swing, always unable to keep his mouth shut, commented: "Sounds like a step in the right direction, if you ask me…"

"We didn't ask you." The king snapped, a rare occurrence, but in this case, a necessary one.

"I'm so sorry, your highness." The painter said, almost managing to sound humble and apologetic. "Naughty paint, naughty brush." He tried to joke. "Please Sampson", he addressed his assistant who started to lower the swing. "Haven't even got a cushion." He tried to joke again towards the royalty in the room, but seeing no reaction, turned back to the task at hand. "Alright, down, down, not that far….oy", and just as he said that, his backside hit the ground and he fell off the swing, brush and palette still in hand. "I'm on the ground." He stated, trying to chuckle it off. "I am literally on the ground, sorry." Again, nobody seemed amused. Or even the least bit interested. "Actually this is a very good angle for you.", he complimented the prince. "great nostrils. Could I have a longer brush." He bellowed and Sampson came running.

The next hour was filled with similar rambling from the paintmaster's side, while the prince, being left alone after the end of the conversation, chose to ignore the man and instead burry himself in thoughts about the ball, while he held his pose. To be exact, he dreamed of one specific guest he'd hoped to attend the ball. It was true, that he thought highly of his subordinates and he would enjoy inviting them to the palace to show approachability to his people. What kind of king would he be, if he excluded his own kingdom to happy occasions like those? The poor folk would never dream to address him with their problems, thinking they were unworthy of his attention. How would he be able to help and support them as was his duty? But in all honesty, when he thought of the upcoming ball now, he thought less of the happy faces of people that had never been allowed entrance to the great hall of the palace, but only of that one particular, beautiful face. He did not even have to imagine her in an evening gown. Just the humble clothes she wore and those pure and honest eyes were enough for him. He didn't need her to be a princess with all the clothes and the jewelry and the divisions and power, did not need the prepared conversations deemed polite and free of possible consequences. All he wanted was another honest conversation with her, just the two of them. One last time drowning in those enchanting eyes of hers, listening to her innocent voice and devouring her wise words. Just one last time, before he headed down the path of duty and royal destiny. One last time, to at least find out her name…

"Voilà!" Master Phinneas exclaimed, leaning back in his swing to inspect his art, nearly forgetting that he was literally hanging by a thread, and tilting to far, causing him almost to fall over. "Oy oy oy!" he yelled, catching himself and frantically ordering his assistant to get him back to the ground before he reached it head first. He then clumsily got to his feet, loosing all his brushes in the process and turning to the prince with a forced smile. "All those years a master painter, and still to eager for his own good." He laughed nervously, while Kit stepped down from his pose and handed the accessoires back to Sampson. "It is almost done, as you can see," Phinneas continued "a few more brushes here, a few corrections there and bada bading" he laughed again, hitting a few imaginary bells with his hands, " you will be standing in front of the altar, flashing your crown at your new bride." Then he paused, regretting his words instantly. "Of course, you wouldn't be wearing the crown after the release of this painting, because you wearing the crown would mean that your dear father, the king, would have passed on and I would never paint a portrait to cause that, no no no no no, this" he pointed to the painting "is merely for the bride part of everything, not the crown part. My art surely is powerful, but not that powerful, you understand…"

"Thank you, Master Phinneas." Kit interrupted the poor man, before he dug himself a hole deep enough to reach the water far beneath them. "I am sure it will be most attracting to the eligible princesses of faraway the kingdoms."

Master Phinneas gave another exaggerated bow and muttered something else under his breath, but the prince had no intention nor interest to stay any longer than necessary.

After all, he had a very important ball to prepare.