Beckett
My eyes open and just for a moment I hope that I wake up from this nightmare that I am living. I am then reminded by the throbbing of my head and my puffy eyes that I do not have that luxury. I know that I am going to have to wake up and figure out how the hell I am going to manage being king.
I always thought that there would be no way I would ever be in this spot. Louis was the older brother, also making him next in line for the throne. He would then have children and they would be ahead of me for the throne. I never wanted this responsibility. If I had gotten what I wanted, I would get to live my life without having to worry about who’s watching my every move. I almost feel that god had mistaken me for another child.
I am not royal. I am not prince material. And I most definitely am not king material. I never payed attention to my tutor when he tried to teach me about politics and the history of our country. And now it’s come to slap me in the face.
“Sweetheart,” I hear my mother say as she gently knocks on my door. I roll over and pull my sheets over my head.
“Beckett! you can’t just lay in your bed all day.”
The thing is I can. I can do whatever the hell I want. I am Beckett Thomas Dunn, Prince of Hiraeth. I laugh to myself after even thinking of using that name. The door swings open. It’s Mother.
“Beckett Thomas Dunn!”
“Good morning mother!” I say sarcastically trying to shake her anger.
“Beckett, I know this is hard. I am living it with you, but you may not let down our country and your people. They need you.”
I chuckle.
They need me. Who does she think she is? A standup comedian?
“Whatever.” I slump my head back on my pillow and pull up my sheets. I am going back to bed and never waking up.
“Beckett! You have had your time to grieve. You have not showered in a week, and I don’t think your closet has seen you in a suit since the funeral. I know this is hard, but you can’t live like this forever. You just can’t!”
She pauses as if she is waiting for a reaction. I don’t respond. This irritates her.
“Breakfast is ready. I expect to see you in the dining hall in an hour.”
She closes the door. That is the first time in two weeks that someone told me what to do.
I roll out of my bed and try to find the wood floor under the layers of clothes piled on my floor. My room is a mess. For once I feel like a normal teenage boy. I don’t have a maid who cleans my room. I don’t have to wear a suit. And lately the servants have gotten pretty used to me not even wearing a shirt. Nobody dares tell me what to do. That was until this morning.
I walk into my bathroom and pull off my pj’s. These need a wash. They smell like I haven’t taken them off for a week. Not surprised. It’s only a result of my recent poor hygiene.
I turn on the shower and get in. I forgot how much I love the feeling of the warm water. I take my time. I don’t want to go out that door and be expected to do anything.
Once my fingers are wrinkled and the room is filled with steam, I finally get out. I throw on a white polo and some dress slacks. Navy ones.I comb out my hair. My hair looks a darker brown than ever. Must be the lack of sunlight.
My curls have not enjoyed the lack of care and are almost dreads. I hate to admit it but getting up and ready feels great. I feel like this is a fresh start.
I walk out of my room and down the long staircase. Why we don’t have an elevator, I couldn’t tell you. I take a left, another left, and then a right, and find myself on the way to the dining hall. I see the family table and all the sudden lose the hope for a good day.
I look at the chair where father would sit, and the one across from mine, where Louis would sit. I take a deep breath and put all my emotions to the side. I am so sick of having to put on this fake face to convince the public that I love my life.
“Beckett sit up strait.” Mother lectures.
Why should I have to worry about my table manners when it is just me and my mother? Why should I worry how to present myself when it’s only for the press? I have no motivation. No push to want to be what my father was.
I take a sip of my coffee and a bite of my eggs. As always, not hungry. I put down my fork and knife to signal that I am done and wait for Mother to do the same.
“Beckett, I have a few questions for you. Your coronation is being planned for November fifteenth. It should be snowy, so Nico and I planned your outfit accordingly.” I nod acting as if I care.
“Also, it’s about time that we had a royal wedding around here. You should get going on that.”
My mouth drops open.
“You’re getting re-married!?” I exclaim jokingly.
She rolls her eyes and sighs.
“You’re getting married dumb-ass,” Nico says as he swings open the door.
My mother is appalled,” Watch your mouth! Both of you!” She shouts.
I scoff and excuse myself. I follow Nico to the fencing room.
. . .
I grab my épée and put on my mask. I call for Nico. Growing up Nico lived in the palace. His father worked as a handyman. He and I became great friends. Him, Louis, and I were always finding ways to get into mischief. He always had an eye for interior design and fashion. Father hired him and put him on our palace design team.
“You seem troubled. Are you alright?” Nico says as he grabs his épée from the stand.
“You wouldn’t understand,” I say back. Hoping for his classic reaction to my answer.
“Yeah your right. Sorry for caring.”
He always says that. He knows that I will talk.
“I can’t believe she wants me to get married. I don’t know why she brought it up so suddenly.” I go to stab at his chest, but I am blocked.
I pause trying to see thorough his mask. Then continue.
“And before my coronation.” I add on.
“That’s in like 30 days!”
“You don’t think I noticed that?” I say back sarcastically. He swings his epée under me, throwing me off.
“How do you meet a girl, fall in love, and get married in less than 30 days?”
Nico pulls up his mask, stopping the fight.
“I’m not.” I answer with irritation in my voice. I also pullup my mask.
“What do you mean? You’re just going to ignore your mother?” He asks trying to comprehend.
“I’m having an arranged marriage.” I respond sounding embarrassed.
Nico pauses. He thinks. And starts laughing.
“Nico! This is when you are supposed to be like ‘dude that’s crazy... I can’t believe she’s making you do that.’” I stab at him. He just keeps laughing.
“So… when do we choose a wife?” He says sarcastically, obviously trying to dig deeper into my wounds. I sigh, then respond.
“Today.”
. . .
I take a deep breath. For the first time since he died, I am going in my father’s office. I just need to grab the bachelorette papers and get out. It’s easy. It really is easy.
I’m lying to myself.
I open the door and am punched in the face with a million memories of my father. I’m taken back to the first-time father taught me how to write my name. He showed me the letters on the very desk that sits in front of me. I remember how he carefully traced the letters. Even though he was busy, he always found time to teach me and make me feel loved.
I shake my head and go grab the papers. I look at his worn-down chair. I remember all the times I sat on his lap while he worked. I used to grab onto his promising arms as he would swing me in circles until we both were too dizzy to stand.
Filing cabinet.
Just walk over and grab it. I look in the top drawer, then the second, and find the folder in a tab called royal affairs. I grab it and get the hell out of this office.
I eventually make my way the garden. When I was young, I used to help plant the roses with the cook and gardener Lita. She thought of me as a friend and didn’t treat me differently because I was the king’s son. I liked that.
I open the folder. There are about 34 packets of paper. 34 eligible bachelorettes. 34 people that I could potentially spend the rest of my life with. Father kept the packets nice. All the pages are perfectly lined up, without a wrinkle to be found.
Every packet has a portrait of the girl, and about a page of information. Her country, her height, fertility, and other facts about where she lives. Looking at these makes me sick.
Breathe.
That’s what air is for.
I feel like I have looked at a hundred girls by the time I have looked through only fifteen packets. Some girls are blond, others brunette. Some are tall and skinny, others plump and short. Some are white, others darker skinned.
I want to give up. I want my old life back. I wonder what father would do in this position. I remember a lesson he taught me one night. It was after I told Mother I wanted to quit my studies. He sat me on his lap like always, and then looked me in theeyes.
“Do you think that the sun gets tired of shining on the moon?” He asked me thoughtfully. My young mind stopped to think.
I then responded, “Maybe. But that’s his job.”
He taught me that day that life can get tiring. Sometimes we feel like the sun. But no matter what we cannot let then moon down, because that is our job. Right now I feel tired and helpless. I want to put down these files and sulk in my bed. But I know right now I need to be the sun and shine my light on the moon.
I grab another packet. This packet should be number sixteen. I open it and see a picture of a girl with big blue eyes. They are wide and innocent. She has long dark eyelashes that contrast with the white-blond color of her hair. Her hair pulled behind her neck and in some sort of updo. She wears a blush pink dress, similar the ones my mother wears to fancy events.
Around her neck is a simple silver necklace that matches her earrings. Her skin is fair and soft. I study her bright smile, and all the sudden feel like I know her. I suddenly have an urge to meet this girl.
I look through her information: Jane Elizabeth Hendrix, Princess of Eunoia. Daughter of King Rowan Charles Hendrix And Queen Ainsley Jane Hendrix of Eunoia.
Their names slide off my lips almost like i have heard them before.
Rowan Hendrix. Eunoia.
. . .
I run inside to the library. Growing up I hated it here. I grew to loathe reading. My father would make me read for my studies. I read everything from old English classics to comic books. I hated it all. It was something that I just never found interesting. I would rather watch a film.
I go to the history section and look up the kingdom Eunoia. This kingdom has been around almost doubling the allotment than Hiraeth. They are known for their vicious warfare and beautiful landscape. I read and I read, and I find nothing about why it sounds so familiar. I start to wonder if mother knows anything.
I call over my butler, Barnes, and ask him to send a message to my mother to meet me in my office in twenty minutes.
After Barnes leaves to send the message, I head up to my office. It’s clean, clear of any papers. Not that I’m clean or anything, I just don’t have any papers to put on it. My desk is a dark wood, brown with a small tint of red. Behind it is a bookshelf matching the color of the desk. The bookshelf is filled with hundreds of books. I have a black spinning chair that is tucked into my desk. There’s also a couch that sits against the wall on the opposite side of the room. The couch has a velvety feel with a navy color and gold feet. Nico designed everything.
I pull out Janes packet. I spread out the pages on my desk and examine every detail about her. I look at her family, her country, her hobbies. Something about her is different, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.
Mother knocks on my door as she walks in, even though the door is wide open.
“You needed me?” She asks as she takes a seat on the navy couch.
“Yes, I was looking through the packets of eligible bachelorettes. And I came upon this lovely lady.”
I pause and show her the picture.
“I couldn’t help but hear the familiarity of her last name.I looked in the library to find further information about her country and I couldn’t seem to find anything useful. I was hoping you could help me out?”
She picks up the paper off my desk. Stares at it for a few seconds. Then crumples it up and throws it on the floor. I’m surprised at her sudden brutality.
“No son of mine will be marrying any offspring of that feeble-minded bastard!”
I am bewildered by her reaction.
“Mother calm down. Why does that sound so familiar?” I ask trying not so set off the bomb that has already been lit.
“That- That terrible man is the one who was behind the whole war!” She exclaims.
To be a hundred percent honest, I have no idea what she is talking about.
“What war?” I answer. She looks at me like I am insane.
“Have you learned nothing?!”
Well, this is it. I’m going to die, she is going to kill me.
“Are you really so naïve? Did you not listen to a single thing from your tutor?!”
I scoff to myself and mistakenly answer, “Mother you know the answer to that.”
I want to take it back as soon as I say it. My heart speeds up. I feel like I just spent all my life on a piece of pottery and as soon as I took it out of the furnace I drop it and it shatters.
“I don’t even know why I bother,” She says as she stands up and leaves.
One thing I have learned in my young 19 years is that sassing my mother never just rolls over. There is so much strategy in how to talk to her.
That’s it! Strategy! I’ll tell her that I want to choose Jane to ally kingdoms! That’s it!
