The Prince's Caretaker

Chapter 4

Mitch was told to stay in his room, and whoever was chosen as his caretaker would be sent to him once they were informed of their position, and the rules of it.

He didn't stay in his room. He was exercising while waiting.

It was a slow, painful process in his weak state, but he was getting through it. He had a room for it, and he did his best to use everything there.

He climbed a thin pole in the corner of the room, in order to get onto a second level of sorts. This was an obstacle course, made to force him to strengthen himself safely. It wasn't there just to be there, however; he had a destination in mind, and this was how he would get there.

He climbed through the maze of platforms and barriers, then climbed down a pole to a different, padded bench. He managed to get on his back, then lowered his arms to the sides. There was a weight on either side of the bench, and he grabbed these, lifting them a few inches off the ground. He couldn't lift them very high, and he was already tired.

Mitch sighed. This was hard. He just wanted to be healthy. The weights dropped from his hands, and he forced himself to climb up the pole again. The rough stone used to hurt his hands. Not anymore. Now, he was resistant to the roughness, and grateful for the added friction.

He got back onto the maze overhead, and climbed back to the first bench, in the corner by the door. He crawled to the door, then stood up, almost collapsing with each step, but determined to make it to his room on his own two feet.

After several minutes, he had made it the short distance to his room, and fell onto his bed.

He got under the covers, suddenly cold. He curled up, and waited for his caretaker.

_

Scott was sitting in the king's study.

"One last rule," he said. "Mitch is vulnerable. Never harm him, or do anything that could, in any way, cause him harm. Added to that, you will sleep in his room, but in your own bed. Never in his, and never bring him to yours. I know you are gay; I know he is, too. Your hands stay to yourself unless necessary. Do not enjoy yourself while taking care of him."

"Okay," Scott said. He was anxious to get to Mitch.

"I am trusting you with this," the king said. "Do not let me regret this. I will not frighten you with the consequences if I do end up regretting it."

"I will be careful," Scott promised. "You will not regret it."

"Good," said the king. "Now, a guard will bring you to Mitch's bedroom."

_

Scott knocked on the huge, wooden door before him.

"Who is it?" Mitch's voice called.

"Me, your new caretaker," Scott replied.

"Yes!" Mitch shouted. "Come in!"

Scott laughed. He sounded so excited.

He went into the room, and stood by the bed.

"You sounded happy," he said.

"You were the only person I asked for," Mitch told him. "There were others, selected by my parents instead, but you were chosen." He smiled. "I only wanted it to be you."

Scott found himself suddenly uncomfortable.

"I was told not to... be with you," he said.

"You will not," Mitch said. "I was told that as well. I said that I would never think of that."

"Good," Scott said. He looked at the bed to the far side of the room. "Is that mine? I was told to stay away from your bed."

Mitch laughed. "I was told not to let you sleep here. You can sit with me, or on your bed."

Scott nodded, going to his bed. He climbed on from the side, and gasped, sinking into it. 

"Can I sleep until eternity here?" he asked.

"No, you can help me take a bath," Mitch told him. "I was exercising a few minutes ago. I need a bath, and I need help."

Scott groaned. "Give me something easy first."

"Draw me a bath. We have to do this. You have to help. You could have refused the position. We will become accustomed to it, but just get it over with for now."

Scott sighed, getting up reluctantly.

_

After the bath, Mitch was sitting in his bay window, wrapped in a silk robe. Scott was holding his clothes.

"I regret this," he sighed. "This is not comfortable."

"I can dress myself partway," Mitch offered.

"Okay," Scott said. "That would make this so much easier."

Mitch held out his hands, and Scott gave him the outfit. Mitch closed the curtains behind him for good measure, and started getting dressed. Scott looked away.

Mitch needed some help, but not so much as to make either of them uncomfortable. After he was dressed, they sat together on Mitch's bed, while Scott brushed tangles from his hair.

"This is easier with you," Mitch said. "I had to carry my own weight before, for the most part. I was usually carried if I left my tower, but not other than that. Now I have you."

Scott smiled. "I am grateful to help you," he said. "I just want to do that. I want not much more from life."

Mitch turned around, smiling too. "Well, then you got what you wanted. This help could help me avoid wasting energy unnecessarily, and I could survive longer."

"Do you want to?" The question slipped out by itself. The two of them stared at each other for a moment. "Sorry," Scott whispered, blushing.

"That was a fair question," Mitch told him. "And the answer is no, not really." He sighed. "My life is difficult. If I get better, I will never take anything for granted, not even life itself. But until then, I really have very little desire to live like this longer than necessary. But I will not die until nature has decided it is time."

"You are stronger than most, for your ability to retain any kind of will to live," Scott said.

"Thank you," Mitch said. "At least I can be strong somehow."

Scott sighed, continuing to brush his friend's hair.

Poor thing.

***

A lot happened in this chapter. A lot of important things happened, so keep in mind some of the things that are talked about.

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