❥ CHRIS ❥

"Alfred?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

Alfred was beside me as always as I left Sarah's room. Her reaction when I asked her out still clouded my mind.

She was shocked.

The way her plump lips almost parted when she was unsure what to say, or the way she bit her lips to hold back any rude insults whenever I upset her, did things to me.

I didn't know why I brought up the idea, but I was glad I did. Ever since that interview, ever since she looked at me so deeply, touching my hand as though she claimed me in front of the press lady, my chest felt itchy.

I hated it.

I hated how she went back to normal immediately after the woman left. I hated how her warm hand left mine with such speed, as though it irritated her.

Did I look like a fucking virus?

My jaw clenched in annoyance, which amused me. I stopped walking when I noticed a nearby mirror along the hall. The expression on my face surprised me, and I chuckled silently.

What's wrong with me?

It hasn't even been a week and she's already taking over my mind.

Maybe asking her out was a mistake.

I turned back, staring at her door, wondering if I should just tell her I was joking but...

"...You don't need to force yourself to get to know me."

"But I want to," I whispered to myself. I wasn't sure how my reaction came across when I told her that, but thank fuck it seemed believable.

Sighing, I pushed a few strands of hair back; they felt longer, which meant I needed a haircut before Mother started complaining.

I checked my watch. It was three-thirty p.m.

"I guess it's tea time, then, Alfred." I glanced at Alfred, informing him. He nodded, his frown deepening as he spoke. "I'm afraid so, my prince."

I hate royalty.

I rolled my white sleeves as I began walking towards the garden, preparing myself for what was to come.

As I walked, my skin crawled with an unknown itch each time the silence of the palace swallowed me whole. I always hated when it was quiet. Maybe that's why I usually brought women to my bed-their noises distracted my mind whenever I thought about the disappearance of my brother, Prince Elliot.

Finally, the outside breeze touched my face, the air greeting me with its heat. I strolled deeper into the garden as maidens bowed and greeted me, which I ignored.

What's the point of faking niceties when they will still gossip about me?

Another reason I hated the crown: the gossip.

It spread faster than fire engulfing a forest. Since birth, or maybe since I showed no interest in royalty, people saw me as the prodigal son.

Not because I failed as a prince.

But because I wanted to be free.

But that was impossible. The rules in the kingdom could ruin a commoner's life, let alone a royal's.

"Christopher," a voice called out, snapping me from my thoughts.

I stared at Mother, sitting in her favorite spot near the river. It was one of the few places I found some semblance of peace, away from the relentless expectations of my life.

I pulled a fake smile as I walked towards her. "Mother." I gave a slight bow, placing my hand on my chest as I rose.

"Hmm," she responded without looking at me, then later spoke. "Leave us." The two guards behind her bowed and left without a word.

I knew she also meant Alfred, who quickly departed at her unspoken command.

"Come, my child," she gestured towards the empty chair she always kept for me. Each of her children had their own designated chairs. I once commented on how ridiculous it was.

The marks on my back were her response, and I never mentioned it again.

I nodded, walked towards the chair, and sat down. She didn't speak further, just took a sip of her tea and glanced at the garden.

This was our usual routine whenever she summoned me. It always took thirty minutes, and I never paid attention to the time limit I had to endure. But tonight, I had a date. While preparing wouldn't take long, I wasn't in the mood to sit and stare at some fucking flowers.

"Mother," I cleared my throat, gaining her attention. "Could we reschedule for tomorrow? I have something important I need to do."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "More important than spending time with your mother?" she said, not as a question but as a statement of fact.

Yes. I was this close to voicing it out but I bit my tongue, holding back the retort. "Of course not, Mother, it's just that-"

"Then it's not important," she interrupted, continuing to stare at the ducks that appeared on the river.

I gripped my thighs, trying to hold my anger. I couldn't show her my true feelings. I had to hide my expression.

"Remove her," she suddenly said.

"Who?" I knew who she meant.

She didn't spare me a glance as she answered. "You know who I'm talking about, Christopher. Why waste my breath saying her name?"

"Why?"

"Why?" This time she looked at me, her gaze sharp. "Because I want to. It's bad enough that she isn't who I wanted you to fake marry, but a commoner," she spat the word as though it were a disease. "I honestly thought you could do better, son."

It took everything within me to stay silent. I bit my lip hard, almost tasting blood.

"I don't understand," my voice began to rise. "You told me to get a bride, and I did. What's the problem-"

"The problem is that she stinks of poverty!" she yelled. "I expected you to choose someone from at least a respectable home, someone with wealth, not some slut like the ones you always bring into the house!"

"She's not one of them," I shot back, my voice trembling with suppressed rage.

Her eyes shot open, amusement flickering briefly before giving way to cold fury. "What did you say?"

I stared at her, trying to understand the source of her anger. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to calm myself. "I meant, it's too late for that. The press has already seen her face. She's already known as mine."

Using mine in reference to Sarah felt strangely satisfying, but I focused on my mother's expression. Her eyes calmed a bit, but her anger still suffocated the air.

"Fine," she said, and I sighed silently in relief. But then she continued, "But why did you choose someone so far beneath you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You could have picked someone from the kingdom or at least someone who is already a friend of the family," she said, her words striking a nerve. I finally understood the real reason for her outburst.

"Are you talking about Jennifer?"

Jennifer was my so-called betrothed, arranged by my father since childhood. The idea of her sleeping with both men and women disgusted me. At least I only went for the opposite gender and stayed devoted, waiting for them to screw up before moving on.

We were both messed up, and I was tired of her obsession with me, so I broke it off.

"And if I was?" she shot back, watching for my reaction. "Answer me, Christopher."

Was she being serious?

"You are the next king, Christopher, and that means sacrifice, Jennifer will soon come back from whatever she came from and I want you to get her back and marry her, that is your only role as King"

I couldn't. I couldn't bear this anymore.

"And you wonder why Elliot left," I dared to utter the truth. I almost laughed maniacally, relishing the reaction on her face. "This is why,"

Before I knew it, a hard smack came across my face. It didn't surprise me. I felt numb, which was better than feeling anything else in front of her.

"I wish it was you who disappeared instead of your brother," her voice trembled. She was holding back tears, her eyes watery as she spoke the words I had always feared.

That made me lose my composure, but I smiled, wanting to see her tremble more. "Me too but this would have killed him anyways," I whispered before walking out, resisting the urge to break the chairs.

This was why I didn't want Elliot to come back. He would suffer the same torment as I did. He was weak when it came to physical assault.

I was ready to bear this if it meant knowing he was alright wherever he was.

"Your hair is getting long. Cut it before your father notices," she called out as I left the garden.

Father despised whenever my hair grew, he said it reminded him of the betrayal he felt when Elliot vanished without a trace amd since we resembled, it just made him feel sick.

My body boiled with rage, my head throbbing with a pain that felt like it would split my skull. I hated how she made me feel worthless, like my only purpose was to continue the family name. I needed a release, something to ground me, but I didn't know where to find it.

My legs moved on their own, leading me through the hallways until I opened a door without thinking.

"What are you doing here again?" Sarah's voice brought me back to reality. I blinked, realizing where I was.

Sarah's room.

She was in the middle of getting dressed, her damp hair dripping onto her shoulders, a towel wrapped around her body. Makeup products cluttered her dressing table, and clothes of various colors were scattered around her.

"It's not yet time..." her voice trailed off as I walked towards her, my eyes fixated on the way she nervously licked her lips. Confusion and a hint of fear flickered across her face as she registered my approach. "Where do you think-"

I cut her off by crashing my lips onto hers, hard. I needed to feel alive, to escape the thoughts of my mother, my father, and the inevitable punishment that awaited me.

I gripped her waist, pulling her closer with an aggressive urgency. She struggled, trying to push me away, and my mind snapped back to reality when I felt a sharp pain on my lips. She bit my tongue as I recoiled, tasting the warm rush of blood on it.

What have I done?

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, not daring to look at her. Shame washed over me, making me want to disappear. "I'm sorry," I repeated, my voice trembling. I felt my legs give way, and I sank to the ground, the weight of my actions crashing down on me.

I'm turning into a sick fuck, just like my father.

"I'm sorry..." I didn't realize I was crying until I felt the tears on my face. My head ached, and I wished I could turn back time.

"I'm..." My voice caught in my throat when I felt her kneel beside me. She wrapped her arms around me, holding me tightly.

"Just shut the fuck up and stop crying," she said bluntly, but her touch felt safe. "I'll kill you later for kissing me like that, but you have to stay calm." She hugged me tighter, her fingers running through my hair in a soothing manner, like a mother comforting a child.

For the first time, I felt a release without the need for sex.

I clung to her, pulling her closer. She was still cold from her bath, but her embrace felt warm. It was nice.

"You know," she said, "I don't understand what just happened, and I'm going to forget it if..."

"If?" I asked, resting my head on her shoulder, inhaling her scent.

"We still go out on that date with me. I'm pretty hungry, and I don't think biting lips counts as food,"

I laughed loudly at her words, she becoming too perfect for my fucked up mind and I'm not hating it.

"Of course," I replied, my chest itching in a good way whenever her hands glided through my hair. "Whatever my lady wants,"