Pride considered this, and then nodded. If the need came to speak of those who felt trapped--well, this was a good, if rather direct, metaphor. "Of course I will," he agreed. As to the 'flight' magic, he laughed softly--it was dangerous to press it, but even Charity had to know it couldn't go on forever. "I fear my magic is tired, for now. Settle down; you have so much energy!" But it was said with kindness, enthusiasm--as if praise more than anything else. And it was; he'd rather encourage her joy, her energy as he'd put it, rather than press her down into a mold of something she did not wish to be, that she was not, by nature, intended to be.

She was a child; she needed freedom and joy.

"Now, the 'someone' who stole the Prince did so with a good reason for his fear!" Pride began. He curled his legs beneath him, laying upon the rock beneath the tower, peering up at it. "He was a plain, small coyote who marvelled at the Prince's beauty and kindness. An inky blackness had been spreading over the caves, like water--filling them up and drowning out the light. No one knew what lay within, only that those who went into it did not return. And the one who put the Prince into the Tower hoped that by so doing, he would save the Prince from the darkness below, and spare them from whatever fate lay in shadows."

The white stag looked solemnly to Charity. "But of course it was not to last. For even if it did--safety is rarely worth the price of freedom, or happiness. Up in the tower, the Prince could not see the blacknes spreading below. They had only the Coyote's word for it. But it filled Orion, sure enough; and the Coyote cowered in the tower room with the Prince, begging them not to go." Pride watched Charity with wide, dramatic eyes, his voice soft, as if awed. Atmosphere was important, after all! "At last the Prince looked out--this was just before they jumped, you see!--and said, 'I do not know what lies in the darkness, but I cannot stay in this tower any longer. I can't live out a life imprisoned--that's no life at all. I will take the plunge.' And so the Prince jumped--not only with despair, but with determination in their heart."

Pride nodded, a little, as if to emphasize.

"The blackness engulfed the Prince, and those who were not already swallowed by the darkness mourned and wept for the Prince's loss. Then the Kingdom went quiet, as you said: still and lifeless, sad without King or Prince."

The stag then waited, a long pause, drawing out what tension he could. When he continued, it was with wonder in his voice. "It was only some days later when the darkness fell away! It receded, drawing back into the shadows, to reveal a triumphant Prince--and all those who had gone missing--far below. They had faced the darkness, and found that it could be defeated. The Unknown, once known, was nothing to them. Despair, confronted with hope, fell away. Fear was driven back by courage! The Coyote came down from his tower, in awe, to see the shining Prince at the head of their kingdom. He knelt before his Prince--his king!--and he spoke: 'O, my Prince--my King!--I am sorry for having locked you away. I only wished to protect you; I never wanted to lose you to the dangers that lurk these caves. The tower was to guard you!' But the Prince shook their head. 'It was a prison, a cage, and it was never safe. The Darkness would have found me there, as easily as anywhere else. But now I know my own strength, and now I'm free.' And so the Prince--now the King--ruled for many years, keeping the darkness back with hope and with kindness, and the Kingdom's subjects were forever free. As for the Coyote, he left the tower behind--where it has stood abandoned ever since."

Pride at last fell silent, tilting his head, watching Charity with veiled worry and hope. He hoped that she'd find meaning in the tale--but he'd have to wait and see.