Adam sat at the window seat in his study, reclining against the wall, a tumbler full of whiskey resting easy in one hand, a letter in his other. He had changed since his visit to town earlier that day and was wearing a simple linen shirt with black pants and hunting boots. He detested the pageantry of the French nobility, piled on so thickly that recognizing an acquaintance at a party first required several minutes of mental excavation beneath the layers of clothing, wigs, makeup and perfume. No, he preferred a more natural look whenever possible and, though his father disapproved, most noble women did not seem to mind.

He sighed and took a deep draught from his tumbler, looking absentmindedly out of the window. Colors rippled through the sky as the sun slowly sank like a stone beneath the horizon. He had received a letter from his intended, Lumiere had ensured that it was waiting for Adam on the desk in his study. He turned his attention back to his fiance's fine artistic script while the faint scent of perfume wafted up from the pages. This distant princess assured Adam that she would bear him sons, but he found himself too preoccupied to process any of her words. Man was born free…

The words echoed through his thoughts, irritating him like a tune he could not stop replaying in his mind. Freedom was for the philosphers. As for himself, he had his father and hundreds of years of courtly traditions and expectations breathing down his neck.

Adam drained his glass and then stood suddenly, nearly hurling himself off the window seat and at his desk. He opened the top drawer and retrieved the book he had confiscated from the beautiful young mademoiselle. He flipped open to a random page where his eyes fell upon the passage,

"In truth, laws are always useful to those with possessions and harmful to those who have nothing; from which it follows that the social state is advantageous to men only when all possess something and none has too much."

Adam blinked and nearly dropped the book in surprise. He was no stranger to provocative material, but he had never read something so shocking. Adam dropped the incendiary book onto his desk as though it had burned his fingers. He eyed the text in disbelief, then threw it back into the drawer and slammed it closed. He leaned against his desk, glowering, considering. He was not a man who took kindly to having his privileges (which he viewed as rights) challenged. In fact, he was not accustomed to being challenged in anyway whatsoever. He was angry, but underneath the anger was something else…

A knock on the door announced Lumiere's presence.

"What?" the prince snarled.

"His majesty has requested your presence for dinner master," Lumiere told him.

"You mean he demanded it," Adam countered.

"Are you too tired from today's journey to join him?" Lumiere asked. Adam scoffed and poured himself another drink.

"As though I have a choice," Adam grumbled into his glass, "Inform him I'll be down imminently."

"As you wish master," Lumiere responded, bowing and leaving, his footsteps echoing off the polished floors of the west wing. As Adam took another drink, he eyed the drawer of his desk suspiciously, wondering what else Monsieur Rousseau had to say.

"Ah, the prodigal son returns," his father said from his vantage point at the head of the table as Adam strode into the dining room. Adam had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes as a servant pulled out his chair for him and he seated himself.

"You've set me on an impossible mission," Adam told his father as he tucked his napkin into his collar, "But then I'm sure you get a perverse pleasure out of setting me up for failure."

"You know nothing of failure. There is no one who has ever been set up for more success than you, Adam," his father responded, taking a bite off of his long handed fork, "Besides, I'm told you've found yourself a pretty young thing to take your mind off of the ugliness of the task I've given you."

Adam grunted in response. He eyed his father who looked back at him impassively. He wondered if his father had also been informed that this young woman was in possession of the much loathed Roussseau, but if he had been his expression did not show it. It was unlike his father to miss an opportunity to give him a lecture, so he assumed that he didn't know. For a moment he considered telling him, but then he was certain his father would not approve of how he had handled the situation and he would be treated to another speech of how little he knew of being a proper prince.

"Do you think much about freedom father?" Adam asked after they had eaten in silence for a few moments. A look of surprise crossed his father's face and he nearly choked on his dinner bread. Composing himself, he dabbed his face with his napkin and cleared his throat.

"Is this about your betrothal?" his father asked.

"What?" Adam responded, "No, I'm merely curious- "

"Because we need this alliance," his father told him, "And at your age you should be far more concerned about your duties than freedom. It's time for you to settle down, you'll be a father soon."

Adam glared down at his plate as his father continued eating, the table to silent that he could hear the tinkle of the silver against the china. Of course. He should have known better than to try to open a conversation with his father. For all the people that surrounded him and doted on him, he so often found there was no one he could really talk to.