Two weeks until I become king.
I’m already ready and dressed long before the castle hand (was his name Liam?) comes in to wake me. He comes over to my desk and places a plate of some kind of pastry on it, between some of the tall piles of papers that are still somehow organised despite the fact my window is wide open. Liam, I think, rushes to the window as a small breeze ruffles a few papers, slamming it shut.
“My apologies, Prince Levi.” The castle hand gives me a deep bow before scurrying off to whatever lowly tasks need to be done around the castle.
The clock ticks, suddenly reminding me that things need to be done on time. I glance at the large grandfather clock against the wall before picking up a few papers and making my way out the door.
Castle hands rush around me as I walk down the stairs, giving me side glances as they run up and down the stairs. I push past the slower ones, ignoring the shocked squeaks and rushed apologies. I tense when I see blonde hair skipping out of the castle doors with a guard following. I relax and internally chuckle, princes don’t need personal guards past the age of 10, but mother’s seen Archer run off too many times so she insists on the guard (Malcolm?) to follow him around, both in and out of the castle.
I shake my head and keep walking, I don’t have time to think about Archer, strange, i can’t recall when he last thought. I smile to myself as I keep walking through the castle. Eventually I get to the small corridor that leads to the advisors meeting room. The cramped corridor is the only way to get there without having to open the outside door, the door that takes what I think is hundreds of keys to open, so I will have to deal with the damp smell and rather odd choice of carvings lining the rock.
I slip into the room and sit in my normal seat, beside the empty seat of my father. I am rather early, only a handful of cleaners are rushing out, no one is allowed in the discussion room unless they are royal, an advisor or invited by no other than the king.
I’ve only once seen someone get punished for being in the room while the advisors were talking with the king, it was a castle hand, a meek woman who had accidentally put off cleaning the table until they started. She accidentally walked in and was swiftly prosecuted. She’s probably still in the dungeon under the castle, or executed. She shouldn’t have been there, wrong place at the wrong time, I’m afraid.
Finally, my father walks in, “Oh, Levi, it must have slipped my mind to let you know, the meeting is canceled, we are instead having dinner with the Pridor royal family.” I find myself nodding but I can see right through him, he’s planning something.
I watch the way he shifts from food to foot while he waits for my response, “And you’re nervous because?” I raise an eyebrow at him.
The king sighs, letting a moment pass while clearing his throat before finally speaking, “We have arranged a marriage between you and the Priodor princess, Eliza.”
My father watches me nod slowly, holding his breath, “Ok, let’s not be late for dinner, we shouldn’t keep our guests waiting.”45Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsR8UsLle9K
45Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkavJs0Tcjm
“Well, isn’t this just fantastic,” I mutter under my breath as Archer makes his grand entrance, fashionably late as always. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if he even tries to be on time. The way he saunters in, all charming smiles and apologies that probably aren’t even sincere. And of course, Dash has to be right there at his heels, the mutt. How the little brat convinced mother and father to let him keep it is beyond me, no matter how much I protested my mother gave in. She gave in to him. Gave in to Archer Grace Hadaway.
I don’t bother to look up when he sits in his normal place, there’s better, more important things to think about than my younger brother. We all know he wasn’t studying, or at least I do, he was probably off running around in the woods with that stupid dog and his stupid lower class friends. It’s not my problem anyway, and it won’t be my problem when I’m king either.
I cringe as I watch Archer charm the king of Pridor, why does everyone always fall for his act? My fork drags across my plate, I can feel my mother’s glare just out of my sight, she hates the sound of metal against china. I know the fact it’s the good, painted with slightly more detail, plates are getting on her nerves more than the initial fact of my fork against it. I lift my fork and stare at the scratch left in the paint for a long time while letting the table defend into silence. Everything in my in’s screaming to talk, that princess don’t let their guests get bored but a sense of panic rises in my throat.
Panic as the realisation that what’s been done cannot be undone hits me like a truck. My throat feels dry and as I reach for my glass of wine my hands shake. I quickly retract my hand and press it against my thigh under the table. Willing it to stop shaking, for the panic quickly rising in me to stop and retreat back to wherever it came from. Nothing works, it’s not working, my throat feels like it’s tightening and my vision is getting darker. I will never be able to be with Mel if I have to marry her. I will never be able to marry Mel if I have to marry princess Eliza of prior. There’s nothing I can do, I have to marry Eliza, but… Mel… I drag my eyes up from my plate and look around the table, my eyes land on Archer, who’s stopped joking for once. I stare at him for a long moment. Maybe it was his idea to get me married, maybe I underestimated him for all this time. Maybe the soft, backbone-less prince of Kire has a cruel streak. He’s the favorite, mother’s little prince who cang.
I suck in a breath and stare back down at my plate. I swallow and force myself to think about good things. Good people. Nice people. A person who I love. Melody Vance. I sigh a little and before I know it I’m fighting tears from falling down my face. I cannot show weakness, not in front of them. But Mel. Oh Mel.
The silence has been broken by both sets of parents starting to explain to Archer what he’s missed, they all look at me and wait expectantly. I determine that my hand has stopped shaking enough to reach it onto the table and take a sip of wine. I take a deep breath after I swallow, hoping the tension I feel cannot be seen by anyone else at the table. I look up from my plate at my parents.
“...You’re really going to make me say it?” I take another breath before glancing at my mother before looking at Archer and continuing, “The parents took the initiative to arrange a marriage between Eliza and I.” I meet Archer’s eyes and watch the gears in his head turn as he just stares at me for a minute.
A beat of silence passes before I see the corners of Archer’s mouth twitch and I prepare myself for the annoying quip coming, “Poor Eliza.” Archer blinks his big green eyes at me, daring me to retaliate, I open my mouth to reply but stop myself. I cannot embarrass myself in front of another royal family, especially since their daughter is to be my bride.
Mother tells him off, calling him ‘Archie’ as she always does. I consider teasing him about the nickname she refuses to drop no matter how much Archer begs but I don’t say a word, keeping my mouth shut. Not to keep the peace, but because he’ll get a taste of his own medually.
I refuse to look at her, I refuse to look at the woman who is stealing me from my one true love. I refuse to look at the brother who’s fault it is.
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