The Prince's Caretaker

Chapter 5

The next day, Mitch was asked to have breakfast with his parents. They were told that it was meant to celebrate him getting a caretaker, and there would be some very influential friends of theirs to celebrate as well.

"Not that I dislike or distrust these people," Mitch was saying while Scott helped him to bathe. "I just dislike others seeing me like this."

"I get that." Scott was barely listening. He dipped a cloth in the water. "Close your eyes, please."

Mitch closed his eyes, and Scott rubbed the cloth on his face.

"I want to seem more independent than normal," he decided.

"I would discourage it," Scott said, picking up Mitch's robe. He lifted him onto a stool beside the tub, and wrapped him in the robe.

"I want to at least feed myself," Mitch said.

"You can do that, but what if your parents say something about it?" Scott asked. "That could be as bad."

"The only one of them who actually knows my limitations is my mother," Mitch told him. "She will not say anything. She knows I will be uncomfortable."

"Okay," Scott said. "Do you want me to carry you into your bedroom, or dress you here?"

"Carry me," Mitch said, making grabby hands at Scott.

Scott chuckled, and carried his charge into the next room over like a baby.

He set him on the bed, and helped him to get dressed. Having done that, he worked on Mitch's makeup, then smiled.

"You look perfect," he said.

"I need jewelry," Mitch told him.

Scott nodded. He had forgotten that. Mitch didn't wear it normally; he didn't need it.

Scott gave him a handful of rings, and put a couple of necklaces around the prince's neck while Mitch put the rings on his fingers. Scott slid a few bracelets onto his arms, then stood back.

"Is that alright?" he asked.

"Yes," Mitch replied. "Now, carry me as far as the dining hall, then let me walk into there."

"They should not be convinced that you have no actual need for a caretaker," Scott said. "Nor should they think you are lying to them about your abilities."

Mitch sighed, looking at the ground. "I hate feeling weak," he whispered. "And I hate acting weak, and I hate that I know I really am."

"I have said this before, and I will say it again," Scott said. "You are not weak. You are not strong in the sense that you can lift large amounts of weight. But you are strong in a different sense. An emotional sense. A health sense. I mean, you are far from healthy, but you have survived. And you want to, even if just a bit. You are so strong, even if not in the physical sense that many associate with strength."

Mitch smiled. "Thank you," he said. "You can carry me the whole way, then."

"Alright," Scott said, picking up his charge and leaving the room.

_

Scott got to the double doors outside the dining hall, and paused. He put Mitch down, and allowed the prince to climb onto his back.

Mitch got comfortable, and meanwhile, they could hear soft chatter in the room.

"Where is your son? Did you make it sound like this was optional?"

"No." That was the king. "They should be here." He sounded impatient.

"Perhaps they should have been given several days before we did this," the queen suggested. "They have to become accustomed to their new arrangements. Scott is probably still in shock."