A little Colour

Dong... Dong... Dong...

The sound of the bell snaps him from his daze. He sits up straight on refocuses his eyes on the figures standing before him, bowing respectfully. An old, rich man, and a young attractive woman. A long moment passes before there is a barely audible noise at his side. The fossil of a man that had been his mentor his whole life glares at the young prince, his jaded eyes darting between him and the still bowing suiters.

The Prince sighs. He'd wanted to see how long they'd bow to him, before he was even king. With a wave of his hand, the people straighten. The man looks at him expectantly, awaiting an answer. The woman looks at him with a warm smile. She has jet black hair, piercing grey eyes and exceptionally pale, almost snow white skin. Before yesterday, she would have been the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Now though, she wouldn't even make the top five.

This was the ninth father presenting his daughter to be considered for marriage this morning. They were all pretty. All smart. All rich. All boring. He had no interest in marriage. He was still young. But the world has a way of pressing matters that should not be pressed for some time.

His father, the King fell terribly ill a year ago. Mere days away from death now. And as long as the Prince remains without a wife, tradition dictates he is unable to assume the throne. Immediately his days became filled with suitors, all vying for his attention. His life had become colourless and repetitive.

Every day was the same. He would sit on the throne, the bell would toll, and men would all but throw their sisters or daughters at him until the sun set again.

Today was different. The prince sat at the throne, the bell tolled and the proposals started. But as the sun began to set there was another, a woman by herself pushing her way past the guards. Curiosity took hold and by command of the Prince, the woman was allowed through.

She was not like the others. She was dressed modestly, a simple light grey dress. A Baker, or Smith's daughter perhaps. Her speech began and the interest fled him like a torrent before he saw it. A marigold flower, cupped in her hands, presented to him. It is Yellow... and Orange... the first colour he had seen in a year.

Overcome with joy and excitement the Prince leapt to his feet, drawn to the flower he approached and stared in childlike wonder. A smile spread across the woman's face as he took the offering, her smile broadened by his own forming smile. The woman takes his hand and the prince follows as if hypnotised, out into a large garden, where the two of them stay for several hours.

The moon had flown high into the sky before the woman began to tire. So she stood, with a pleased smile on her face. The Prince rose to meet her eyes and smiled at her. A strand of black hair fell over her face, and as if by instinct he brushed it back, placing the marigold behind her ear to stop it falling again. Without a word he leant down to kiss her. Eventually the kiss came to an end and the smile on the Prince's face became wider.

His hand entwined in her brown hair, his eyes linger on her vibrant red lips, and her baby blue sundress stands out against the dark night.

"Why me? I'm nobody special..." She whispered.

"You don't have to be" He replied.