This story isn't historically accurate. Regardless, please do enjoy.

~

Beneath the moonlight had lay no other than the prince himself — a mop of brunet hair accustomed to the streams and creeks of the forest. Forbidden, he'd remind himself as his eyes shifted to the stars, but that doesn't stop my curiosity. His body limp and cold, yet determined to stay. No such penmanship could describe his euphoria that he has so dawdled towards.

A soft sigh, perhaps a mewl or cry for help, escaped his thin lips. His weight shifted beneath the water; head engulfed in the pond. He swam up towards the moonlight, then back towards his clothes on the shore. He continues to gasp for air, coughing vigorously as if his lungs were ready to collapse. Amongst this erupted a small chuckle of pleasure — happiness perhaps.

Regaining his composure, Seto would begin to put on his clothes. A simple shirt made out of nothing but peasantry material, followed by his pants, dirtied and soiled; his precious cloak, dawning the colors of purple and gold, rested neatly on his wet figure, the hood covering his face.

"What am I doing?" was all that he could utter from his ill-spoken lips.