Consume your own self, for you are no more than your own actions. If no action presents when required, you have worth akin to the dust that is trampled upon forevermore.
The first to bask in the white light and taste the stern cold air is the prince. He gasps for air as if the grip on his throat has been released, and he peers from left to right, gawking meekly at the faces of all present in court with little concern despite the alarming lack of any action from them.
His attention is drawn back to the plate that resides in his hands. He indulges himself once more, but to his displeasure, the feasting halts, and his appetite remains unquenched. He gazes at his father exactly like a small child would at their parent, for he was precisely that.
"Father! Father!" He calls, yet to his dismay no response comes his way, neither any shift in expression on the King's face, yet to be ridden of the scorn it holds. "Answer me father!" He calls again but to no avail.
Rest assured, for your father is of no ill state.
A calm voice that seeks to comfort peers from above. But the prince is unconcerned, he does not know whether it addresses him, for why it shall? Had it any reason to?
His calls for the guards echo through the hall, seeking to be escorted back to his chambers where he shall spend the rest of his day lazing in his bed, stuffing his mouth with the most delicious of feasts, to drink to his heart's content, to pleasure himself again this night. His days had provided him with sufficient contentment, yet still his heart felt an emptiness that overrode everything he stood for.
Was it the women that had arrived the day prior? They were rugged and uninteresting, he desired to look for someone younger, for that would allow him to explore new depths of his contentment, may it provide him with the desire he seeks so shamelessly.
When none arrive to see forth to him, he bursts into a fit of petty rage but finds it excruciatingly difficult to move himself to the action.
Have you no regard for those that lie around you?
The voice speaks again but the change this time is made when the seemingly childlike voice responds, he dismisses the query presented forward.
"Who says that? Your questions makes no sense to me, yet I feel compelled to answer it but unfortunately father remains unresponsive and thus you must wait to receive the required answer."
Do you not wish to answer me?
The prince straightens up as the voice poses more questions, he is engulfed in confusion and frustration, for he has still not be carried to where he desires to be. He does not wish to continue conversing and that is evident. "Why should I answer you? It is simply not necessary, my father remains the same he was when you questioned me prior, if I have to convey what you ask, then no. I do not wish to answer you, whoever you may be."
Then why have you not exited yet?
The prince grows more infuriated as the voice does not cease to speak despite him making clear his shallow desire to keep responding. In such a scenario, an idea comes over him that he pushes to be executed, "I shall answer you only when I reach my chambers, if you help me get there, then I would contemplate answering your stupid musings. I suppose you may treat this as an honor, the prince himself seeks for you to assist him!"
The voice does not respond, "Where have you gone! Why do you also not answer me!" he groans and wails in his seat until he eventually loses his balance and tumbles to the ground with great force. The pain that overcomes him is torturous in his regards — For concepts such as physical pain are alien to him.
He struggles to keep his bearings, until he is successful in bringing his feet sternly on the palace floor. "HEY! Answer me! Have you no regard for who I am? Stop with this act at once and help me!"
I shall do not such thing, for you ought to struggle once in your life. You do not know pain, an essential aspect that derives you from being truly human.
The prince raises his head and arms pointing towards the direction from which the voice exudes itself from, "Such shamelessness you present against the prince! You are making a grave mistake insulting the one who is sought to be the child of prophecy, the one that would present himself when all men are in ruin and take the crown! How dare you call me subhuman! I am the one who shall ascend to the throne in the coming years and will be ruling this country, the kingdom would be in my arms and I could indulge in whatever I please and if you still aim at becoming my foe, I would not wait to ensure your demise, for my father shall see to it, that you forget the light of day!"
Silence. The voice commands, yet its tone still gentle. Your delusion will ruin you for the few months you have left to live, work is foreign to you yet you believe yourself to be chosen by fate. Change yourself, for there is still time, meagre yet important if you wish to be more than what your bloated appearance presents.
The feeble roars of the prince fill the court as he yells in response to what his ears perceive, "Change myself? You have no right to lecture me. Who do you think you are?"
I am none and everything, I am the voice that seeks to correct your inaction.
"You speak as if you are a God, but you can never be a God! No God will ever speak in such a manner to the one he chose to bring prosperity to the land. What makes me seem complacent to you? For I am much greater than that, I rest because I have no action to take for the time being, I shall step forth when it is necessary and only TIME can bring such reaction. The situation does not demand me, and I shall act ONLY when it does! I am content with what I have, there is nothing I need to work to bring to me, and until the time arrives, my father is present to help me until then, and that is only a given, for it is the DUTY of a father to see forth to their precious child, especially a son. Father has said so himself, I need not concern myself with the matters of the kingdom, they aren't my responsibility for the time being and shall not be for years to come. The people in this castle share the same sentiment, they do not beckon me to take such meaningless action, they don't compel me to do anything, because they are aware it is not required, as the son of the king of the land, it is only natural I be cared for! I will remain unchanged and as I am, no "God" shall force me to do what is unnecessary, and even if you are truly a "God", then you are at fault, for you made me who I am. That discontentment is a result of YOUR actions!"
His bold blaring remarks are contradictory yet absurdly fitting his character, his pearly skin and soft appearance, exacerbated by the lack of control he carries in the form of his bloated stomach as he attempts to walk, but with much difficulty and falters to ground. He sits on the floor catching his breath, and waiting for the arrival of someone, anyone. His pitiful endeavors are, however, abruptly put to an end as the bile crawling up his throat reaches exceeding speed and escapes with a horrendous visual, but to his surprise, the substance isn't the undigested waste that failed to be properly consumed, rather, it is a crimson red that plans not to cease its onslaught. The prince falls with minute impact to the floor, covered in the waste he brought upon himself. His body goes limb and a sudden quiet overcomes him as if he has no longer any place in the world he loathes.
It is truly a shame.
It comments, it continues no further, for it is time for the next to step forth.
With the demise of the prince, another shall replace him but he — just like the rest — Suffers from his own lack of virtue.
As the Duke breathes the stagnant air, he immediately ought to call for the guards, for the prince has fallen. Yet he does not proceed, rather, he stands and faces the voice that he shall face, but to a different fate.