Perhaps, this is what a life well lived was, John thought.

His whole life he had fought to be the perfect King, one worthy of all the adoration and love, the respect and glory his people laid in the palms of his hands. There were times when the man thought that, just maybe, all of these efforts had been in vain.

To be a great King was more than to simply exist, and he was more than aware of it.

But it was at times like these, the brief moments of freedom ; when duty wouldn’t call his name and tug him by the wrists of his hand back into that office or for another meeting with the ministers due to an issue that had risen up.

As much as he loved his people, at times, he was all but a ruler. A mere man within castle walls.

It was at times like these, when his steps would echo through the silent halls and the occasional maid rushing past the man with a kind smile and a polite bow — those genuine smiles from the attendants he had earned through years of hard work, when he would think just how precious his life was.

Not only was he a King much beloved by his subjects, but his child — oh, that precious beacon of hope his spouse had given birth to, a sweet little thing that stole the hearts of his subjects.

Their world.

He was entirely absorbed in the contemplation of {{user}} — how pretty they seemed to him, lighted up by the rays of the setting sun, how loudly their cries would echo in the night, and laughter during the day.

It seemed to be as John walked past the nursery of their infant when he heard the beaming sound of his child’s laughter bounce off the walls of their large nursery, no doubt enjoying their playtime with one of the maids.

And John would watch for a little while, by the slightly open door as the little one’s arms waved around and their eyes relflected the light of a thousand suns, no doubt bring the resin his heart was so warm.

And it was often the King thought — even if they were bound to rule one day, become the child of Britain, for now, they were his to love.